•Hi 


BELLA; 


OR, 


THE  CEADLE  'OE   LIBERTY. 


BY 

MES.  EUGENIA  ST.  JOHN. 


THIRD     EDITION. 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY  N.  D.  BERRY. 

1874. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1873, 

BY  N.  D.  BERRY, 
In  the  Oflice  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Boston:   Printed  by  Alfred  Mudge  &  Sen. 


CTfjts  93ooft  is  DrttcatrU. 

IT  IS  A.  BOOK  OF  TRUTH;   AND   AS  SUCH 

WE  GIVE   IT  TO  THE  COUNTRY,  ASKING  THAT  GOD'S   BLESSING 
MAY  GO  WITH   IT. 

THE     AUTHOR. 


2062097 


PEEFAOE. 


have  not  collected  statistics  to  show  the  numbers 
of  our  people  who  are  shut  into  the  large  and  ele 
gant  locked  buildings  erected  and  sustained  all  over 
the  intelligent  portions  of  our  country ;  but  observing 
the  daily  committals  to  one,  and  casting  a  cursory 
glance  abroad  at  the  others,  we  can  form  an  estimate  that 
will  show  us  that  there  is  a  fearful  mistake  in  the  nation, 
a  wrong  that  the  intelligence  of  the  people  should  investi* 
gate,  a  wrong  that  is  every  day  deepening  into  the  people's 
lives. 

A  poet  gives  us  an  ideal  picture  of  the  passage  to  Inferno, 
in  which  the  people  are  walking  with  their  faces  backward. 
The  ideal  finds  its  graphic  reality  in  prisons  and  asylums, 
where  people  do  walk  with  their  faces  introverted  upon  the 
past  of  their  lives ;  and,  excluded  from  present  happiness, 
the  past  becomes  a  depth  from  which  Memory  draws  to 
quench  the  agonies  of  the  terrible  present. 

An  imprisoned  American  is  like  a  Fourth  of  July  shut  up 
without  a  fire-cracker.  It  wants  to  explode,  but  cannot. 
It  gets  angry,  and  snaps,  or,  yielding  to  its  fate,  sinks, 
faints,  expires. 

One  might  laugh  at  the  present  irrational  mode  of  treatr 
ing  irrational  minds,  as  we  laugh  at  a  well-acted  farce,  were 
it  not  for  the  tragedies  at  the  end.  But  farce  ceases  to  prp- 


6  PKEPACE. 

) 

vote  merriment  when  it  has  lines  eternal  and  immortal  in 
its  acts. 

That  we  may  convey  to  the  outside  world  some  idea  of 
the  inner  workings  of  our  asylums,  and  give  people  some 
deductions  'derived  from  observation  of  them,  this  tale  is 
written.  We  can  say  literally  that  the  facts  are  truth,  hut 
they  are  not  the  whole  truth ;  for,  of  the  sufferings  in  con 
nection  with  these  legal  houses  for  imprisoning  the  insane, 
the  half  can  never  be  told.  The  institutions  may  bear  the 
name  of  asylums,  or  hospitals,  but  they  are  prisons ;  and 
persons  who  have  lived  in  them  as  patients  know  well  how 
to  judge  of  the  effects  of  imprisonment,  both  in  its  moral 
and  physical  hearings. 

MBS.  E.  ST.  J. 


BELLA. 


BELLA; 

OB, 

THE    CRADLE    OF    LIBERTY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


"  My  country !  'tis  of  thee,  — 
Sweet  land  of  liberty  !  — 

Of  thce  I  sing  : 
Land  where  my  fathers  died ; 
Land  of  the  pilgrim's  pride : 
From  every  mountain-side 

Let  freedom  ring. 


'  LEAK,  and  loud  rang  out  these  words  from  the  sten 
torian  lungs  of  young  Mortimer  Beale.  They 
pealed  forth  into  the  evening  air  like  a  tocsin  of 
alarm.  The  mists  of  twilight  caught  them  as  they 
rolled ;  and  back  they  went  upon  the  dampened  at 
mosphere,  reverberating  upon  the  ears  of  the  singer  in  full 
tones  of  his  own  creation.  Mortimer  admired  his  own  voice : 
its  deep  bass,  its  mellow,  higher  tones,  its  full  development 
from  his  strong  lungs  and  broad  chest,  made  his  own  sing 
ing  an  object  of  his  own  admiration. 

9 


10  BELLA  ; 

But  not  for  that  was  he  singing  now.  A  more  unselfish 
motive  prompted  his  outpourings  ,as  he  went  homeward 
through  the  evening  of  the  exciting  day,  —  the  day  of  days 
to  him,  because  he  had  put  his  name  down  with  the  list  of 
volunteers  who  were  to  rush  southward  for  freedom  and  for 
freedom's  government. 

"  My  country  !  'tis  of  thee,"  — 

He  had  begun,  for  the  third  time,  that  wonderful  refrain 
that  is  the  very  Marsellaise  of  American  hearts,  when 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  suggestive  talisman,  — the  mon 
ument,  that,  though  not  living,  yet  has  a  voice  that  speak- 
eth.  Plain  and  simple  is  the  shaft ;  yet  it  tells  to  us  a  tale 
of  which  we  never  weary,  a  story  that  is  to  us  sacred  in  its 
divinity.  It  tells  of  the  battle  of  Lexington,  that  little 
skirmish  when  the  untrained  yeomen  dared  the  regular  foe, 
and  Liberty  spoke  through  her  new  and  broad  highways. 

Nearly  a  century  had  passed  since  that  battle ;  and  Mor 
timer  had  read  the  tablet  till  every  letter  of  it  was  engraved 
on  his  youthful  soul,  and  the  history  of  it  was  a  part  of  his 
childhood's  lesson.  In  spirit  he  had  fought  that  battle  a 
hundred  times.  He  had  rushed  out  from  behind  trees,  and 
popped  at  red-coats  ;  he  had  slung  his  powder-horn  on  his 
back,  and  gone  bravely  forth  with  his  life  in  his  hand. 

Mortimer  had  grown  up  Freedom's  own  child.  His 
mother  had  nurtured  him  as  such,  and  his  father  taught 
him  its  inner  essence.  Some  predicted  that  he  would  come 
to  ruin  unless  he  was  curbed ;  but  his  father  had  no  fear. 
He  trusted  the  innate  strength  that  lay  within  his  only 
boy,  and  felt  that  he  would  go  through  life  guided  by  the 
inner  light  that  was  his  by  birth  and  maternal  training. 
And  Mortimer  knew  that  they  trusted  him.  He  knew  that 
they  threw  him  upon  his  own  strength,  asking  only  that  he 
should  account  to  them  and  to  his  God  for  truth  and 
honor. 


OB,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  11 

Of  whippings  he  had  none.  Not  once  in  his  life  could 
lie  remember  that  a  heavy  hand  had  been  laid  on  him,  or  a 
rod,  or  any  coercive  punishment.  Few  were  the  commands 
he  had  ever  received,  fewer  still  the  cross  words ;  but  of  in 
struction  in  every  intelligence  known  to  common  life,  and 
of  beautiful  parental  example,  he  had  much.  His  religious 
teaching  was  not  precisely  of  the  old  Puritanic  stamp  ;  but 
it  had  in  it  the  eternal  creeds  of  justice,  truth,  and  right. 

This  night  the  boy's  soul  was  full.  His  name  stood  in 
fair  characters  on  the  enlistment  roll.  He  was  his  own  no 
longer.  He  belonged  to  his  Country  now :  he  was  one  of  her 
champions,  ready  to  do  her  bidding,  and  to  go  whitherso 
ever  he  was  sent.  As  he  passed  the  monument,  it  had  a 
new  charm  for  him ;  for  was  not  he  to  be  like  those  old  he 
roes  ?  Was  not  he  to  fight  in  a  cause  as  worthy  as  theirs  ? 
And  did  not  his  soul  burn  with  a  hero's  fire  ?  Did  not  he 
feel  it  glow  ? 

"  My  native  country !  thee, 
Land  of  the  noble  free,"  — 

pealed  the  boy. 

He  had  now  passed  the  monument  and  several  houses. 
He  was  coming  near  to  a  roomy  old  mansion,  —  a  place  that 
had  been  aristocratic  in  its  day,  and  still  maintained  some 
thing  of  its  pretentious  character.  The  style  of  the  house 
was  old;  but  it  was  suggestive  of  comfort  and  plenty  within 
and  without.  The  apple  and  cherry  trees,  the  barns  and 
sheds,  the  spacious  kitchen-garden,  and  the  flower-beds 
well  kept,  spoke  of  well-timed  industry,  thrift,  and  energy. 
Mortimer's  cottage  was  beyond  this  house ;  but  his  feet 
turned  toward  it  as  familiarly  as  toward  his  own  little  home, 
and  almost  as  gladly ;  for  scarce  a  day  passed  but  he  was 
in  and  out  and  all  over  those  premises  with  perfect  famil 
iarity. 
*  It  was  twilight  now ;  and  Mortimer  swung  himself  off 


12  BELLA ; 

from  the  highway,  and  turned  toward  this  house,  with  the 
song  still  ringing  from  his  mouth,  — 

"  Protect  us  by  thy  might, 
Great  God,  our  King. " 

"  Halloo !  "  called  a  voice  through  the  evening  air. 

"  Halloo ! "  he  replied,  the  song  echoing  away,  and  the 
cheerful  greeting  filling  its  place.  "  Halloo,  Bella !  Where 
are  you  ?  I've  done  it.  " 

A  young  head  lifted  itself  above  the  garden-gate,  and  a 
young  face  looked  sober. 

"  O-o-oh,  Mortimer ! " 

"  I  have  !     I've  signed,  and  I  am  going  ! " 

«  You'll  be  killed,  Mortie." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  shall  be  killed  ?  " 

"  Everybody  that  goes  to  war  gets  killed." 

"  Ho  !  No,  they  don't !  Some  only  get  wounded ;  and 
some  come  out  unhurt,  and  some  get  to  be  colonels  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  How  would  you  like  that  for  me  ?  " 

"  Ddar  me  !  I  am  more  afraid  you  will  be  killed." 
•  Mortimer  straightened  up  with  the  look  of  a  brave. 
"  Well,  if  I  am  killed,  I  shall  lie  down  in  the  grave  of  my 
glory :  and  l  nor  in  sheet  nor  in  shroud '  will  they  bind 
me  ;  but  I  shall  lie  in  my  martial  cloak,  and  they  will  lay 
me  slowly  and  solemnly  down  "  — 

"Don't,  Mortie!" 

"  Why  ?  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  me  enshrouded  in 
glory?" 

"  I  would  rather  have  you  at  home,  and  the  other  men 
too.  What  do  they  want  to  go  off  and  fight  for  ?  " 

"What  for?  Why,  Bella  Forresst !  I  thought  you 
knew  all  about  it.  Fort  Sumter  has  been  struck,  the  Union 
flag  insulted ;  and  Lincoln  calls  upon  the  country  to  defend 
itself.  Isn't  that  enough  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.   You'll  all  get  killed  by  those  ugly  men." 


OE,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  13 

"  Pshaw !  Perhaps  we  shall  be  more  ugly  than  they. 
I  mean  to  do  my  part ;  and  Ed  is  of  the  same  opinion." 

"  Ed ! "  exclaimed  the  girl.     "  Is  Edward  going  ?  " 

"  He  signed  with  me." 

Bella  burst  into  tears.  The  sweetness  of  her  young  life 
seemed  suddenly  dropped  out.  Edward  was  her  youngest 
brother ;  and  they  two,  the  youngest  of  ten,  were  always  as 
comforts  to  each  other  in  trouble,  and  joys  in  happiness. 
They  were  the  pets  of  their  parents,  and  were  always  ten 
derly  cherished  by  their  older  brothers  and  sisters.  Their 
lives  had  been  as  blossoms  in  the  midst  of  a  garden,  shielded 
from  rude  winds,  and  sheltered  from  scorching  suns.  But 
now  the  thunder  of  war  had  rolled  over  the  country ;  and 
the  two  pets  were  the  first  to  feel  the  jar. 

Mortimer  looked  at  Bella's  tears  in  astonishment. 

"  I  didn't  think  you  was  a  baby,"  he  said  in  a  surprised 
tone.  "  I  thought  you  had  pluck." 

"  So  I  have  pluck." 

She  wiped  her  eyes  with  a  small  hem-stitched  handker 
chief.  "  I  have  pluck." 

"  The  pluck  of  a  girl ! "  He  laughed  as  he  said  it. 
"  Come,  now,  be  brave  !  We  are  only  going  down  to  hit 
those  fellows  a  few  shots,  just  to  teach  them  that  they  can't 
insult  our  flag." 

"  But  you  and  Edward  both  !     What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  must  stay  at  home,  and  help  keep  things 
going.  You  must  be  a  heroine,  just  as  the  women  were  in 
the  days  of  the  Eevolution,  when  they  fought  right  here 
on  this  ground.  You  will  be  a  soldier's  sweetheart,  you 
know ;  and  I  shall  be  your  knight." 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  your  sweetheart,"  she  answered, 
looking  up;  with  a  laugh.  "  I'm  only  Bella,  and  you  are 
Mortie." 

"  I  know  —    But  you  are  my  sweetheart,  and  I  shall 

2 


14  BELLA ; 

never  have  any  other ;  and,  when  I  come  back  a  hero,  you 
will  be  a  hero's  bride." 

"  I  would  rather  you  would  not  go,"  she  responded  in  a 
childlike  way. 

"  But  you  will  be  my  bride  when  I  come  back  ?  " 

"  Do  you  really  mean  so  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do ;  only  you  must  not  tell,  because  you 
are  only  fifteen,  and  I  am  only  eighteen.  Folks  would 
laugh  at  us." 

"  Oh,  no !  I  won't  tell.  But  it  seems  so  funny !  You  and 
I,  Mortie?" 

"Yes,  you  and  I, — just  y^ou  and  I,  —  Bella.  That  is 
enough.  Don't  you  like  me  better  than  any  one  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  any  one  else,  only  Edward ;  and,  of  course, 
I  couldn't  marry  him." 

"  Of  course  not :  so  now  we  are  engaged.  And  you 
mustn't  cry  any  more.  And  you  won't  desert  me,  will  you, 
ever  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Mortie  !  Why,  no !  I  will  never  desert  you, 
never  in  my  life  !  " 

"  Then  give  me  a  lock  of  this."  And,  as  he  spoke,  he 
lifted  a  long,  shining  black  curl  with  one  hand,  and,  putting 
his  other  hand  in  his  pocket,  he  drew  thence  a  knife,  opened 
it  with  his  teeth,  and  severed  the  jetty  tress  at  a  swoop. 
Then  he  held  it  up  in  the  twilight,  and  its  coils  waved  in 
the  breeze. 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  that's  my  token  !  And  now  I'll  be 
off.  I  shall  see  you  again  before  I  go,  —  a  half  a  dozen 
times,  perhaps.  But  don't  tell.  Adieu  !  " 

Then  he  turned  away ;  and  the  young  girl  watched  his 
shadow  disappear  in  the  deepening  gloom.  There  was  no 
song  on  his  lips ;  but  there  was  one  in  his  heart,  as  she 
knew.  And,  as  she  put  up  her  hand  to  close  the  space 
whence  the  curl  was  taken,  she  felt  a  sweet  young  song 


'OB,  THE  CKADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  15 

rising  up  in  her  own.  The  song  is  really  old  as  the  world, 
old  as  love  ;  but  to  every  heart  there  is  a  time  when  its 
strains  are  new. 

"What  a  funny  fellow  he  is,"  she  thought,  "to  ask 
me  right  here  to  marry  him  !  But  I  will.  I  would  rather 
be  his  wife  than  anybody's;  and  I  am  so  glad  he  asked 
me!" 

Then  she  turned ;  and,  wending  her  way  through  the 
garden-path,  she  entered  the  back-door  of  the  house,  —  not 
as  she  had  left  it  half  an  hour  before,  but  with  a  secret,  a 
life-secret,  to  keep  and  cherish  unknown.  She  forgot  it, 
however,  as  soon  as  she  entered  the  door,  in  the  unwonted 
scene  that  presented  itself. 

There  was  a  family  conclave,  —  the  father  and  mother, 
all  the  older  members  of  the  family  who  were  at  home,  and 
Edward  in  the  midst.  As  Bella  entered,  she  heard  her 
sister  Nellie  say,  "  The  idea  !  That  child  !  Surely,  father, 
you  will  forbid  it." 

Before  the  father  could  reply,  Bella  rushed  forward,  and 
threw  her  arms  about  her  young  brother's  neck.  "  0 
Eddie,  I  know  all  about  it !  You  are  going  to  the  war ! " 

"  I  am  in  a  war  now,"  he  answered,  looking  about  the 
room. 

Bella,  too,  glanced  around;  then  released  her  brother's 
neck,  and  rushed  to  her  father. 

"  0  papa !  you  will  let  him  go  ?  " 

"  Why,  puss  !  you  asking  for  him  to  go  !  " 

"  Yes,  papa ;  because  —  because  —  he  wants  to  go." 

She  was  about  to  say,  "  Because  Mortie  wants  him,"  but 
checked  herself. 

"  But  you  don't  know  the  danger,"  said  the  old  father, 
stroking  the  long,  glossy  curls  of  the  child.  "  War  is  not 
all  glory." 

"  0  papa  !  it  is  not  for  glory  that  Edward  goes  :  it  ia 
for  the  flag,  you  know,  —  the  star-spangled  banner." 


16  BELLA ;  . 

"  What  an  old  child ! "  said  Miss  Nellie,  in  mockery. 
"  How  devoted  to  her  country  !  Quite  a  heroine  !  " 

But  the  father  paid  no  attention  to  the  speaker.  He  only 
looked  at  Edward,  and  drew  his  arm  around  Bella  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  said,  "  Yes,  I  ought  to  be  willing ;  I 
ought  to  be  willing.  Go,  my  son,  but  don't  talk  about 
it  to-night.  Let  me  think,  and  settle  my  mind,  before  we 
talk." 

Bella  put  one  little  kiss  upon  her  father's  cheek  ;  and  the 
old  man,  rising,  laid  a  hand  for  a  moment  on  Edward's 
head,  and  then  passed  out  of  the  room.  Not  a  word  was 
spoken ;  but  Edward  felt  that  a  blessing  had  fallen  on  him, 
in  which  there  was  richness  as  of  dew  from  heaven. 

The  older  children  knew  the  uselessness  of  speaking  after 
their  father  had  decided ;'  and  therefore  the  conclave  broke 
up.  There  were  no  more  outward  murmurings,  but  plenty 
of  secret  dissatisfaction.  "  Those  children  "  were  only  fit 
to  stay  at  home.  "  The  idea  "  of  their  feeling  themselves 
so  old ! 

A  proud  family  this  was.  There  was  high  blood  on  the 
mother's  side  in  the  ancient  times  of  English  history  ;  and 
the  blood  still  lingered  on  this  shore  amongst  the  descend 
ants. 

"  Mrs.  Forresst  was  a  Montague,  —  one  of  the  old  Mon 
tagues  ;  and  that's  what  makes  the  children  so  proud." 

This  was  the  testimony  of  Mrs.  Forresst's  neighbors ;  and 
for  once  "  the  neighbors  "  were  right. 


OB,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  17 


CHAPTER  II. 

heard  the  paeans  of  Pilgrim  praise  two  and  a 
half  centuries  ago  ?  Who  heard  the  wooded  arches 
ring  as  the  lofty  hymns  ascended  from  the  lungs  of 
those  brave  men  ?  Who  listened  while  they  gave 
free  hosannas  to  the  free  God  of  heaven  ?  Did  the 
birds  hear?  Ah,  the  birds  were  flown;  for  gray-bearded 
winter  was  blowing  his  fierce  blasts  throughout  the  woods 
"  primeval,"  and  the  rude  shore,  covered  with  ice  and  snow, 
gave  cheerless  welcome  to  the  singers  of  free  psalms. 

Who  heard  them,  then  ?  Not  England.  She  had  other 
occupation  than  listening  to  the  songs  of  a  few  runaways, 
who  had  obstinately  chosen  a  wilderness  in  preference  to 
her  own  home-nests. 

Who,  then,  could  hear  them  ?  Not  the  Indians ;  for 
Providence  had  cleared  a  coast  where  no  savages  remained. 
Who,  then,  did  listen  ?  Ay,  who  but  He  who  rules  the 
skies,  and  governs  all  the  earth  by  his  almighty  power  ? 
He,  the  impregnating  Spirit  of  all  things,  heard,  and  filled 
those  souls  with  high  and  holy  thoughts.  The  eagle  spread 
above  them  on  aerial  flight ,-  and,  as  the  seasons  came  and 
went,  they  grew  in  numbers,  grace,  and  earth's  prosperity. 
Freedom  dropped  her  branches,  banyan-like ;  and,  in  the 
shadows  of  her  interlacing  bowers,  chapels  of  praise  arose; 
and,  intelligence  keeping  onward  pace,  little  squares  were 
rudely  hedged  in,  rough  benches  improvised,  and  little  boys 
and  girls  sat  there,  and  primly  conned  their  spelling-books. 
2* 


18  BELLA ; 

By  earthly  and  by  heavenly  teachings  the  Pilgrims  hoped 
to  keep  their  people  from  grovelling  in  the  dust. 

But  how  difficult  it  is  to  cleanse  humanity  from  stain ! 
Even  to  these  men,  forms  of  evil  still  clung,  and  elements 
of  perversity  still  mingled  in  their  natures.  The  Saviour 
they  sought  as  guide,  and  would  have  patterned  him,  if 
their  natures  had  been  pure  by  birth  as  his. 

But  that  which  they  did  gain  from  him.  has  given  to  free 
dom  an  impetus  that  bids  fair  to  reach  around  the  globe, 
although  there  have  been  many  standpoints,  many  rebuffs, 
and  many  struggles  in  the  way. 

One  of  these  dark  points  was  now  at  hand;  and  brother 
was  divided  against  brother  in  sanguine  fight.  There  was 
war. 

"  Blood  ! "  exclaimed  a  young  Southerner,  then  standing 
on  the  threshold  of  a  Northern  college.  "I  will  go  back 
to  my  home  in  South  Carolina,  and  dip  my  arms  in  blood, 
in  defence  of  my  father's  home." 

"Blood!  "  said  Mortimer  Beale,  as  ho  and  Edward  were 
on  their  way  to  camp.  "  I  dread  the  thought  of  shedding 
blood ;  but  liberty  must  be  maintained,  and  our  country's 
integrity  preserved." 

Mortimer's  enthusiasm  was  now  unbounded ;  and  as  he 
and  Edward,  embryo  soldiers,  were  sitting  together  in  the 
cars,  they  had  a  long  and  earnest  talk  upon  the  rights  and 
wrongs  of  the  cause  they  had  just  espoused.  There  is  no 
need  to  recall  their  conversation,  nor  any  of  those  stirring 
events.  They  are  not  forgotten  by  the  world. 

The  two  boys  talked  a  while,  and  then  grew  thoughtful. 
They  were  going  from  home  ;  going  into  they  knew  not 
what,  nor  whether  death  or  life  would  claim  them.  They 
were  but  boys ;  and  boys'  visions  came  into  their  minds. 
Gradually  their  conversation  took  a  serious  form,  and  home- 
scenes  mingled  in  their  thoughts.  Mortimer  was  an  only 


OR,   THE  CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  19 

child.  Edward  had  left  behind  him  a  house  full  of  family 
kin. 

Mortimer  turned  away  abstractedly,  gazed  from  the  car- 
window  a  moment,  then  put  his  hand  within  his  coat,  and 
drew  thence  a  thick  tin  case.  From  this  he  took  a  picture 
of  his  father  and  his  mother,  and  passed  them  to  Edward. 
Then,  holding  the  case  still  lower,  he  drew  from  it  a  long 
and  shining  curl.  This,  also,  he  passed  to  Edward.  The 
latter  started,  flushed,  and,  darting  a  look  at  his  comrade, 
murmured,  "  I  didn't  know  —  She  gave  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  No :  I  took  it.     You  won't  betray  me  ?  " 

"  Betray  you  ?  I  see  nothing  to  betray.  I  would  rather 
she  should  give  it  to  you  than  to  any  other  person." 

"  Your  family  will  not  feel  as  you  do.  They  will  reject 
me." 

Edward  thought  a  moment;  then  he  responded,  "I  don't 
think  my  father  would  reject  you.  But  I  did  not  know  — 
that  is — that  you  thought  of  such  things  yet.  We  are 
too  young." 

"  But  we  are  growing  older,"  said  Mortimer ;  "  and  what 
ever  is  to  be  the  end,  I  do  not  know.  The  beginning  is 
made.  Bella  has  promised  to  wait  for  me,  and  I  shall  do 
my  best  for  her." 

"I  give  you  my  hand,"  said  Edward,  —  "the  hand  of  a 
brother." 

Then  they  rode  on  in  silent  grasp,  feeling  a  new  tie  be 
tween  them,  and  that  they  were  now  more  to  each  other 
than  neighbors  and  schoolmates.  The  new  tie  was  a  com 
fort  to  them  both ;  and  they  thought  in  silence,  as  the  cars 
went  on,  on,  bearing  them,  and  a  regiment  of  others,  toward 
the  Southern  fields.  The  train  was  full  of  brave  men,  that 
had  bidden  good-by  to  loving  eyes,  and  were  going  where 
death  might  meet  them ;  and  all  through  the  cars  were 
hearts  of  whom  we  might  speak  or  write.  And  each  heart 


20  BJSLLA  ; 

felt  itself  alone,  as,  indeed,  we  are  alone.  We  enter  the 
world  alone ;  we  leave  it  alone ;  and,  in  one  sense,  we  live 
alone. 

As  nearly  as  two  hearts  can  be  one,  Mortimer's  and  Ed 
ward's  were  joined ;  and  their  spirits  mingled  now  in  a  new 
and  mutual  bond.  And  then  the  cars  stopped,  and  the 
bustle  began, —  not  the  bustle  of  camp,  towards  which  they 
were  looking,  but  the  bustle  of  the  station  at  Boston,  where 
they  were  to  make  a  few  hours'  pause.  Here  there  was  a 
lunch,  a  march  through  the  streets,  a  few  parting  by-words 
with  friends ;  and  then,  before  they  knew  it,  the  hours  were 
gone,  as  all  hours  go,  into  the  irreclaimable  past.  And 
then  they  started  again ;  and  the  whispering  wind  spoke  of 
sadness,  yet  a  sadness  that  had  in  its  essence  the  beauty 
of  hope  and  the  strength  of  faith. 

They  were  going  now  to  the  shelter  of  tents,  to  the  fields 
of  strife,  the  days  of  endurance,  and  the  nights  of  vigil. 

"Not  so  did  our  forefathers  march,"  said  Mortimer —  "not 
by  steam,  with  armaments  all  prepared,  but  by  toil  of  weary 
feet,  and  with  homespun  garments  on.  Those  were  brave 
old  times,  when 

'  The  mother  who  dwelt  in  the  sea 
Had  a  daughter,  a  fair  countree  ; 
And  her  name  was  Amerikee. 

And  the  Johnny  Bulls  came  to  see  this  young  dame, 
And  to  ask  her  to  buy  some  tea ; 
But,  when  they  got  here, 
They  were  struck  with  fear  ; 
For  she'd  boiled  it  in  the  sea.' 

"Ha!  Jolly  old  America,  wasn't  she?  I  wish  I  had 
been  there ;  I'd  have  put  in  my  help,  and  roared  out  a 
tune  "  — 

"  Hush,"  nudged  Edward,  "  not  quite  so  loud.  They'll 
think  you  are  drunk." 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  21 

"'Twould  be  an  unlucky  thought,"  the  boy  replied,  "  and 
one  that  I  hope  will  never  be  thought  of  me  with  truth." 

The  cars  were  bowling  at  headlong  speed;  and  the  boys, 
hushed  into  quiet,  were  riding  on,  as  thousands  of  others 
rode,  towards  the  broad  fields  of  glory  or  of  death. 

Northern  people  watched,  but  watched  not  long ;  for  up 
over  the  news-wifes  came  tidings  that  set  all  hearts  tremu 
lously  beating,  and  made  the  faces  of  even  grave  men 
lengthen.  The  news  flashed  ;  and  everywhere  men  knew 
that  there  had  been  a  battle  and  a  defeat.  The  name 
Bull  Kun  is  yet  remembered.  The  tidings  came  to  Bella 
in  a  letter ;  and  the  letter  had  on  the  envelope  no  name  but 
her  own,  every  letter  of  which  was  written  in  a  bold, 
schoolboy's  hand.  She  knew  the  writing  as  she  knew  her 
own  ;  but  yet  her  young  nerves  fluttered  a  little  at  sight 
of  the  letter,  remembering,  as  she  did,  what  Mortimer 
said  at  the  garden  gate. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  will  mention  it  here,"  was  the  thought 
of  the  child  as  she  looked  at  the  precious  missive ;  and 
that  thought  withheld  her  from  opening  it  while  the  eyes 
of  her  sisters  were  watching. 

"  Head  it,  and  tell  us  what  is  in  it,"  said  Nellie  in  her 
authoritative  way. 

Bella  hesitated,  took  it  up,  and  then  dropped  it  again, 
while  a  flush  overspread  her  face. 

"  You  act  silly  enough,"  interposed  Adelaide.  "  It  is 
only  from  Mortimer  Beale.  Why  don't  you  read  it  ?  " 

Still  the  child  hesitated.  True  it  was  from  Mortimer 
Beale  ;  but  he  was  more  than  "  only  "  to  her ;  and  an  unde 
fined  dread  came  over  her,  a  consciousness,  that,  if  her  older 
brothers  and  sisters  should  know  what  had  passed  between 
her  and  "  Chauncey  Beale's  boy,"  she  would  become  a 
mark  for  their  sarcastic  shots,  —  nay,  perhaps  more :  they 
might  forbid  her  speaking  to  Mortimer,  except  as  a  neigh 
bor  and  friend. 


22  BELLA ; 

"  Don't  act  like  a  baby,"  said  Miss  Nellie.  "  Open  the 
letter,  or  I  will ;  "  and  at  the  moment  she  reached  out  her 
jewelled  fingers  to  seize  the  little  document.  But  Bella 
was  too  quick  for  her,  and  thrust  it  in  her  pocket.  There 
might  have  been  a  sisterly  collision,  but  for  the  father, 
who  opportunely  interfered,  and  gave  Nellie  his  particular 
instructions  to  let  Bella  alone,  and  let  her  enjoy  her  letter 
in  her  own  way. 

It  was  well  for  the  peace  of  Bella  that  the  father  had 
spoken.  Afterward,  when  she  had  slyly  shut  herself  into 
her  mother's  room,  and  opened  her  letter  all  by  herself, 
she  blushed  all  over  rosy  red  at  the  very  first  line,  — 

"  My  dear  little  wife  that  is  to  be." 

"  Dear  me  ! "  she  murmured.  "  What  a  funny  fellow 
Mortie  is ! "  Then  she  read  again,  and  began  it  again ; 
for  she  liked  that  funny  first  line. 

"  MY  DEAR  LITTLE  WlFE  THAT  IS  TO  BE,  —  This   is    the 

first  opportunity  I  have  found  in  which  I  could  write  to  you. 
Edward  is  writing  to  your  father.  I  have  written  to  my 
father,  and  now  I  must  tell  you  the  news.  We  have  had 
a  battle.  Of  course,  you  will  hear  about  it  in  the  papers; 
but  I  must  tell  you  myself  that  a  battle  is  a  very  different 
thing  from  what  I  had  supposed;  and  I  think  it  should  be 
only  the  direst  necessity  that  should  drive  men  into  such 
positions.  I  know  such  a  necessity  exists  now,  else.  I 
would  not  stay  to  shoot  and  be  shot  at.  It  seems  a  neces 
sary  but  a  senseless  way  of  deciding  a  moral  question  of 
right  and  wrong;  and  it  is  a  very  queer  thing  for  intelli 
gent  Christian  men  to  stand  up  in  rows,  and  cooliy  kill  each 
other;  but,  after  all,  there  is  glory  in  it  when  it  is  for  a 
glorious  cause. 

"  I  have  my  tress  ;  and  I  think  of  you  often  in  the  midst 
of  the  hurly-burly  around  me,  but  most  often  at  nighty 


OR,  THE  CEADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  23 

when  the  stars  are  glimmering  above  me,  and  the  night 
winds  stir  the  memories  of  my  soul.  We  have  grown 
up  together,  Bella ;  and  by  and  by  we  will  grow  old  to 
gether.  Won't  that  be  nice  ?  We'll  be  a  good  long  while 
growing  old;  for  we  sha'n't  want  to  hurry  about  it." 

Bella  smiled  a  little  at  the  thought  of  her  and  Mortimer 
growing  old ;  why,  they  had  only  begun  to  be  young. 
"But  then  Mortie  wasn't  like  other  boys  :  he  always  hud 
older  thoughts." 

At  that  moment,  Adelaide  looked  in  at  the  door.  She 
had  finished  sweeping  the  kitchen,  and  her  busy  curiosity 
was  itching  about  Bella.  She  wanted  to  know  the  con 
tents  of  that  letter;  and,  all  the  time  that  she  was  tidying 
the  kitchen,  she  was  longing  for  a  peep  into  her  mother's 
room.  But,  as  she  looked  in,  the  letter  disappeared  in 
Bella's  pocket. 

"  Do  just  let  me  read  it,"  said  Adelaide,  stealing  softly 
across  the  floor. 

"No,  Adelaide,  I  can't." 
i    ' 

Then  Adelaide's  mood  changed. 

"  0-o-oh !  What  a  wonderful  girl  you  are !  You 
haven't  got  out  of  your  baby-tucker,  and  are  setting  up  to 
receive  private  letters  !  From  Mort  Beale  too  !  What 
can  he  say  so  cunning  ?  Or  does  he  propose  marriage  ? 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  When  shall  we  have  a  wedding?" 

Adelaide  said  this  by  way  of  torture.  She  had  no  idea 
that  he  or  Bella  had  thought  of  an  event  so  preposterous  ; 
but  Bella  was  touched.  Without  speaking,  she  arose,  and 
went  into  the  dining-room. 


24  BELLA  ; 


CHAPTEE  III. 

9 

LOVE !     what  is  thy  name,  and  what  thy  mission 

on  earth  ?  Whether  thou  comest  to  youth  in  its 
dew,  or  to  the  strength  of  manhood  and  womanhood, 
thou  bearest  in  thy  cup  a  blessing  of  blessedness, 
which  thou  givest  to  all  such  as  receive  thee  in 
purity,  unsullied  by  passions  foul,  or  selfishness  impure. 
There  is  nought  so  weak  and  yielding  as  love ;  there  is 
nought  so  immovable  and  strong.  The  old  are  made 
young  by  its  divine  essence ;  the  young  are  matured  to  age. 
Thus  it  was  that  Bella  was  a  child  no  longer.  Petted 
she  had  always  been,  but  yet  not  disobedient.  Her  parents 
were  to  her  as  guardian  angels.  Her  older  brothers  and  sis 
ters  had  thus  far  been  objects  of  her  childish  affection,  and 
by  them  she  had  been  treated  with  tenderness.  But  now 
a  new  fealty  had  sprung  up  between  her  and  all  that  she 
had  formerly  loved.  A  new  monarch  swayed  his  sceptre 
over  her  soul,  and  his  rule  was  as  honey  to  her  taste.  She 
wrote  her  answer  in  secret,  scarce  daring  to  ask  herself 
what  she  was  doing,  or  to  commune  with  herself  at  all. 
She  only  realized  that  it  was  sweet  to  love  Mortimer,  and 
that,  if  she  told  her  secret,  she  would  be  a  target  for  ridicule, 
and  perhaps  forbidden  to  hold  a  correspondence  with  him. 

The  keeping  of  "  Mortie's  secret,"  as  she  called  it,  from 
her  brothers  and  sisters,  did  not,  in  the  least,  disturb  her 
mind;  but  to  hide  it  from  her  dear  kind  father  and  mother 
was  indeed  a  sore  trial,  Therefore  Mortie,  in  his  Virginia 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  25 

camp,  received  a  letter  in  which  was  a  request  for  permis 
sion  to  tell  their  little  secret  to  the  dear  parents,  "  because 
they  are  so  good,  you  know  ; "  and,  as  the  young  soldier  read 
that  sentence,  he  smiled.  "  Yes,  good :  that's  so.  But 
what  will  they  say  to  me  ?  That's  the  question.  How 
ever,  I'm  in  for  it ;  and  so  here  goes." 

He  took  a  pen  then,  and  dashed  off  a  few  lines,  not  very 
grammatically  or  elegantly ;  but  Bella  understood  by  them 
that  she  might  do  as  she  pleased  about  telling,  only  that  she 
must  not  venture  to  endanger  their  happiness.  "  You  see," 
he  said  in  his  frank,  open  way,  "  I  am  but  a  boy  now.  I 
shall  be  a  man  by  and  by ;  and  then  I  shall  seem  a  great 
deal  smarter.  I  mean  to  be  something  some  time ;  but  per 
haps  your  father  and  mother  will  not  believe  it." 

Bella  watched  her  opportunity,  and  gave  this  letter  to 
her  father  when  none  were  by.  A  blush  overspread  her 
face  ;  and,  shaking  back  her  curls,  she  stood  with  a  wistful 
look  while  he  read  it.  His  countenance  changed  from  its 
gravity  to  a  smile,  and  from  that  to  a  look  of  incredulity. 
"When  he  had  finished,  he  chucked  her  chin  ;  and,  turning 
her  face  up  to  his,  he  said,  "  This  isn't  serious.  You  do  not 
mean  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father." 

"  Why,  you  are  only  two  little  chickens.  What  do  you 
know  about  life  ?  " 

"  Mortie  says  we'll  be  older  by  and  by." 

The  old  man  looked  thoughtful.  "True,  true.  You 
will  be  older,  and  I  shall  be  passing  away.  Well,  yes.  Tell 
Mortie,  that  if  he  lives,  and  is  a  virtuous,  honorable  man,  I 
shall  have  no  objection." 

Thus  the  girl  felt  that  she  had  gained  a  point ;  but  she 
knew  that  plenty  of  points  lay  behind.  She  had  not  lived 
all  these  years  without  hearing  it  often  said  that  "  Chauncey 
Beale  was  a  nice  sort  of  a  man,  but  terribly  shiftless  about 

8 


26  BEL^A ; 

getting  a  living ; "  and  she  knew,  that  as  soon  as  it  should  be 
known  that  she  was  "  engaged,"  as  Mortimer  said,  that  all 
her  big  and  "  big-feeling  "  brothers  and  sisters  would  rise 
up,  and  the  poverty  of  the  father  would  be  charged  at  once 
to  the  son.  Therefore  her  wise  little  heart  said,  "Keep 
still ; "  and  she  put  her  two  plump  little  arms  around  her 
father's  neck  and  said,  "  You  won't  tell,  will  you?  " 

He  smiled  as  he  answered,  "No,  chicken.  You  may 
depend  upon  that." 

Then  time  passed  along.  Weeks  became  months :  au 
tumn  took  the  place  of  the  summer,  and,  in  its  turn,  gave 
way  to  winter,  furious  and  cold.  Bella  received  her  loving 
epistles,  feeling  that  she  had  a  right,  now  that  the  father 
had  given  his  sanction.  Sometimes  she  showed  him  the 
loving  words  ;  and  he  patted  her  head  with  a  meaning  smile, 
remembering,  as  old  men  will,  his  own  early  days  of  love. 

Notwithstanding  that  Mortimer  was  away,  and  in  a  dan 
gerous  place,  Bella  was  very  happy.  She  felt  herself  rather 
romantic  as  a  "  soldier's  sweetheart,"  and  clandestinely  en 
gaged  ;  and  she  found  great  delight  in  running  into  Mr. 
Beale's  cottage,  and  making  herself  useful  there  as  a  daugh 
ter,  yet  knowing,  or  fancying  she  knew,  that  they  knew 
nothing  about  it,  and  had  no  idea  that  she  was  really  their 
daughter.  All  this  she  communicated  to  Mortimer,  to 
gether  with  the  news  of  the  town,  and  her  little  love~mes- 
sages. 

It  was  thus  when  the  winter  came,  and  the  snow  beat 
down,  covering  the  roads,  the  roofs,  and  the  bushes  with  its 
fantastic  drapery  and  fleeced  blankets.  Winter  never 
caught  the  Forressts  unprepared.  Come  when  he  would, 
after  November  set  in,  around  their  house,  and  all  over  their 
premises,  he  found  himself  expected ;  and  he  laid  his  fleeces 
on,  and  blew  his  winds,  without  harming  them.  Nor  was 
the  elder  Mr.  Forresst  oiteu  seen  out  on  stormy  days.  He 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  27 

let  his  business  wait  for  the  storm-king  to  pass  by,  pajing 
obeisance  to  him  as  to  a  power  from  the  unseen. 

It  was  not  for  himself  that  he  went  out  this  day,  when 
the  winds  were  sifting  the  snows,  and  sending  them  about 
like  Arab  sands,  filling  and  flying  and  cutting  and  beating 
into  the  faces  of  those  who  ventured  into  the  drifts.  He 
went  out  on  an  errand  of  mercy.  His  hands  were  well  in 
cased  in  double-woolled  mittens  that  his  "  auld  wife  "  knitted 
in  the  days  gone  by.  His  overcoat  hung  to  his  boots,  and  its 
double  capes  kept  his  shoulders  safe  from  the  cold ;  while 
his  warm  woollen  muffler  protected  close  his  neck  and  ears. 
Altogether  he  was  a  very  nice-looking  old  gentleman,  and 
a  man  whom  every  one  liked,  modest  and  unassuming. 

'•  The  pride  of  the  family  comes  through  the  wife,"  people 
said.  "  The  old  English  Montagues  were  a  proud  set." 

When  Mr.  Forresst  left  his  house  that  morning,  he  went 
in  his  usual  precise  manner.  Harry  harnessed  his  horse, 
and  brought  it  to  the  door.  Mrs.  Forresst  tied  his  cravat, 
and  placed  properly  the  high,  starched  linen  collar  about 
his  neck  ;  Miss  Nellie  helped  draw  on  his  overcoat  5  and 
Bella  stood  waiting  with  his  mittens.  There  was  a  little 
extra  tucking  of  the  fur  robes  at  the  sleigh,  because  of  the 
storm  ;  a  good  many  charges  to  be  careful  about  letting  the 
wind  in  around  him,  to  keep  the  muffler  close  over  his 
mouth,  and  to  be  sure  to  call  somewhere  and  get  warm  if 
he  felt  chilled.  And  then  the  old  gentleman  drove  away. 

Nobody  thought  to  tell  him  to  be  careful  in  driving.  No 
body  thought  of  his  needing  such  a  direction ;  for  "  father 
was  the  most  careful  driver  in  the  world : "  so  Mrs.  Forresst 
always  said ;  and  it  was  true.  But  this  day  the  snow-sifts 
were  hard  and  ugly,  the  storm-winds  pertinaciously  furious; 
and,  in  spite  of  all  hid  exertions  for  warmth,  his  old  fingers 
grew  clumsy  and  stiff.  The  old  horse,  too,  found  the  ele 
ments  too  hard  for  him ;  and  in  the  early  twilight,  that 


28  BELLA  ; 

seemed  to  hasten  on  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  when 
sleet  and  hail  began  to  add  their  difficulties,  the  old  horse 
and  his  old  driver  plodded  slowly. 

There  was  no  one  by  when  it  happened  ;  and  the  driver 
could  not  tell  his  own  tale  for  hours,  —  not  till  he  had  been 
picked  up  by  a  passing  neighbor,  who  found  him  lying  at 
length  upon  a  drift  of  snow,  incrusted  over  with  sleet,  his 
sleigh  overturned,  and  the  horse  standing  in  the  crust,  with 
cuts  on  his  legs  where  he  had  stamped  about  in  efforts  to 
get  away. 

Mr.  Forresst  was  carried  home ;  but  it  was  many  hours 
ere  he  spoke.  Then  it  was  as  one  passing  away;  and  the 
household  sorrowed  with  deep  grief.  Proud  and  stern  as 
some  of  those  sons  and  daughters  were,  they  bowed  before 
this  stroke  of  God. 

But  the  wife  felt  it  most  of  all.  She  had  lived  by  his 
side  through  many  long  years ;  and  they  had  prospered  to 
gether.  Now,  when  he  talked  of  going,  and  held  her  by 
the  hand,  she  said,  "  Don't,  father,  don't.  I  can't  bear  it." 

"But  we  must  bear  that  which  the  Lord  puts  upon  us," 
he  said  reverently.  "  You  and  I  have  had  many  years  to 
gether.  We  did  not  expect  our  earthly  union  to  be  eternal. 
The  eternity  is  to  come ;  and  you  must  gird  yourself  now 
to  hear  my  few  last  words.  It  is  of  Bella  I  wish  to  speak. 
Our  older  children  are  doing  well :  their  characters  are 
formed,  their  prospects  are  good.  But  Bella  is  young,  and 
has  a  little  secret." 

Then  he  went  on  and  explained  this  secret,  adding, 
finally,  "And  now  I  want  you  to  be- to  her  what  I  have 
been.  Let  her  come  to  you  with  all  her  wishes  and  troubles. 
Be  her  shelter  and  strength." 

"  And  are  you  quite  satisfied  with  such  a  match  for  her  ?  " 

"  Quite,  quite.  I  know  Mortimer's  father  never  had  a 
tact  at  getting  money ;  but  he  is  a  good  man.  His  boy  has 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  29 

been  well  brought  up,  and  Bella  loves  him.  I  intrust  them 
to  you  ;  and  it  is  my  wish,  if  Mortimer  comes  out  of  this 
war  free  from  vice,  that  they  marry.  Sarah  Jane  is  about 
to  marry.  The  day  is  fixed,  as  you  know  :  do  not  let  it  be 
delayed.  Mourning  should  not  be  a  mere  form ;  and  you 
will  mourn  for  me  none  the  less  because  there  is  a  wedding 
in  the  house  "  — 

«  Father,  don't !  " 

The  old  lady's  head  dropped  to  the  sick  man's  breast ; 
she  stretched  her  arms  across  his  shoulders  ;  her  face  drew 
near  his  till  her  pale,  tear-stained  cheeks  touched  his  white 
beard.  And,  when  the  children  came  in,  they  found  her 

there. 

•* 


30  BELLA  ; 


CHAPTER  IV. 

6) 

"  ORTIMER  !  0  Mortimer ! " 

There  was  a  wail  in  the  sound  of  the  words ;  and 
the  young  volunteer  turned  his  head  toward  the 
speaker.    They  were  reading  letters  from  the  camp- 
mail,  which  had  just  arrived;    and  Edward's  face 
was  full  of  an  inexpressible  anguish. 

"  What  is  it,  Edward  ?  "  asked  the  one  addressed. 

"  My  father  —  oh,  my  father  ! " 

Then  he  threw  the  letter  into  Mortimer's  lap,  and  laid 
his  head  down  on  a  stool  beside  him. 

"  Read  it  aloud,  Mortie." 

Then  Mortimer,  in  his  full  bass  voice,  read  aloud  of  the 
misfortune  in  the  snow,  the  events  that  followed,  the 
death  and  burial  of  the  good  old  man. 

"  I  shall  never,  never  see  him  more,"  moaned  the  be 
reaved  son.  "  He  feared  that  I  would  die  ;  but  he  has  gone 
first." 

The  bronzed  soldiers  gathered  around.  Many  of  them 
knew  Mr.  Forresst,  and  all  sympathized  with  the  bereaved 
boy.  There  is  nothing  better  than  sympathy  in  the  hour 
of  sorrow ;  but  even  that  is  impotent  when  first  grief  falls 
in  all  its  fierce  attacks.  And  so  Edward  moaned  and 
sighed,  like  a  stricken  boy  as  he  was. 

"  Write  to  mother,"  said  the  letter  at  the  close.  "  This 
stroke  falls  heaviest  on  her." 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERT?.  31 

Then  the  boy  sat  up,  and  the  spirit  of  the  man  came  into 
him. 

"  Yes,  I  will  write.  Father  is  gone.  We  must  be 
mother's  right  hands  now." 

"  That's  right,  my  brother,"  was  the  response  of  Morti 
mer.  "  I  would  I  could  lend  my  aid." 

Little  time  had  Edward  for  manifestations  of  sorrow;  but 
he  wrote  a  letter  to  his  mother,  in  which  he  poured  out  the 
fulness  of  his  heart.  And  the  letter  carried  to  the  mother 
just  the  balm  she  needed. 

"  Dear  Edward,"  she  said,  "  he  tells  me  I  must  remember 
that  I  have  many  loving  hearts  who  will  stretch  out  tender 
hands  of  sympathy;  and  it  is  true  :  my  children  are  now 
my  staff." 

There  was  a  great  change  in  the  Forresst  mansion.  It 
seemed  that  the  light  of  it  had  gone  out.  They  had  been 
so  accustomed  to  go  to  father  for  advice ;  and  he  had  been 
always  so  wise,  yet  modest,  that  they  all  leaned  upon  him 
as  a  rock.  Now,  however,  they  must  take  up  the  mantle 
he  had  dropped,  and  strive  to  be  worthy  a  seat  in  his 
ascending  chariot. 

The  strong  love  of  the  elders  was  not  more  grateful  to  the 
mother  than  the  weakness  of  the  youngest.  Bella  sank 
into  her  mother's  arms  like  a  shocked  child.  And  she  was 
shocked.  That  her  father  should  pass  away  out  of  her  sight 
was  an  event  that  had  never  entered  her  young  thoughts ; 
and  it  seemed  that  God,  whose  ways  she  always  heard  were 
right,  had  done  a  very  strange  thing,  for  which  she  could 
not  account ;  and,  in  her  tearful  bewilderment,  she  leaned 
her  head  upon  her  mother's  breast,  and  coiled  up  into  her 
lap,  as  though  that  was  the  only  solace  now  on  earth. 

Mrs.  Forresst  was  deeply  moved  by  this  clinging  helpless 
ness.  She  took  the  child  into  her  own  room  and  her  own 
bed.  Bella  felt  that  this  was  now  her  home;  and  she 


32  BELLA  ; 

brought  her  clothes  thither,  piece  by  piece,  till  she  had 
made  a  complete  removal.  And  when  the  mother  told  her 
privately  of  the  father's  dying  charge,  and  how  she  should 
keep  it  to  the  letter,  a  new  life  opened  before  the  girl  ;  and 
she  felt  sure  that  now  she  was  safe  from  trouble  or  opposi 
tion  on  Mortimer's  account. 

"  They  will  none  of  them  dare  to  speak  if  mother  takes 
my  side." 

And  now  came  other  changes.  Sarah  Jane  had  a  wed 
ding  in  the  house.  She  was  married  to  a  man  from  Salem, 
—  a  "  heavy  man,"  her  brother  Frederic  said  he  was.  But 
Bella  could  not  think  so.  He  was  a  "  little,  dried-up  old 
fellow,"  according  to  her  thoughts ;  and  it  was  a  mystery 
that  Sarah  Jane  could  love  him. 

"  I  would  rather  have  my  Mortimer ;  wouldn't  you,  moth 
er  ?  "  she  asked  ingenuously,  as  they  sat  together  in  the 
mother's  room. 

The  mother  smiled.  "  No  doubt  you  would,  my  child ; 
but  how  would  you  like  it  if  Sarah  Jane  wanted  your 
Mortimer  too  ?  " 

"0  mother!" 

"  You  see,  my  darling,  it  is  all  right  that  tastes  should 
differ  in  love  as  well  as  in  other  matters.  Sarah  Jane  has 
made  a  good  choice  :  so  every  one  says." 

"  Because  he  is  rich,  mother.  My  Mortie  isn't  rich  ;  but 
he  is  so  nice  all  the  way  through." 

Mrs.  Forresst  smiled,  and  then  they  went  on  with  the  sew 
ing  about  which  they  were  busy ;  and  afterward  Sarah  Jane 
went  to  her  Salem  home, —  to  a  house  filled  with  plenty,  as 
none  but  "  heavy  "  men  can  fill  them. 

The  oldest  daughter,  Eunice,  had  been  married  some 
years  before,  and  was  already  a  mother  in  a  sumptuous 
house  in  Boston.  There  remained  at  home  now  Miss 
Nellie,  Adelaide,  and  Bella,  with  Harry  as  main  man  of  the 


OE,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  33 

house.  The  other  brothers  were  established  in  business ; 
and  no  one  of  them  was  sufficiently  patriotic  to  leave  the 
work  of  fortune-making  for  service  in  the  field.  It  was 
better  to  scoop  in  the  bills  by  trading  for  the  army  than 
to  risk  life  and  fortune  in  it.  This  spirit  was  characteristic 
of  the  family ;  but  yet  characteristics  do  have  exceptions. 

The  home-life  glided  on  again ;  and  time  rolled  on,  bring 
ing  no  new  jars  to  the  bereaved  family,  till  a  blow  fell  upon 
Bella,  like  a  second  stroke.  Adelaide,  sly,  inquisitive  Ade 
laide,  went  to  the  post-office,  and  found  there  a  letter  for 
Bella.  So  strict  were  the  parental  commands  in  reference 
to  Mortimer's  letters,  that  as  yet  not  one  of  them  had  been 
opened.  But  this  was  from  Edward.  Adelaide  knew  the 
handwriting;  and,  walking  home  at  the  afternoon's  wane 
with  the  letter  in  her  hand,  she  felt  a  curiosity  to  read  it. 

"  I've  a  right,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  It  is  from  Edward ; 
and,  of  course,  it  is  meant  for  us  all." 

Then  with  a  Maltese  purr,  and  soft  silky  hands,  she  tore 
off  the  end  of  the  envelope,  and  found  —  ah,  what  did 
she  find  ?  Two  separate  letters.  One  was  for  family  use, 
and  the  other  was  for  Bella's  private  reading.  To  this  the 
soft  sister  paid  special  attention ;  and  the  reading  solved  the 
whole  question  that  had  often  come  to  her  as  a  possibility. 
She  carried  the  letters  home  in  her  secret  pocket,  and 
hastened  with  them  to  Nellie's  chamber.  There  was  a 
development  then ;  and  the  two  sisters  were  fully  agreed 
in  one  expression,  — 

"  This  must  be  stopped." 

They  differed  only  as  to  means,  each  following  her  own 
natural  suggestions,  by  which  Adelaide  advised  a  secret 
course ;  but  Nellie  put  her  foot  down  haughtily.  The 
dainty  slipper  made  quite  a  noise  on  the  floor  ;  and  her  clear, 
commanding  voice  uttered  imperiously,  "No!  we  cannot 
wait  for  secret  measures.  The  whole  thing  must  be  stopped 


34  BELLA ; 

at  once.  What  can  Edward  be  thinking  of!  Foolish 
boy!" 

Upon  that  Miss  Nellie  arose,  and,  letter  in  hand,  sought 
her  mother. 

But  when  she  found  that  her  mother  was  already  cogni 
zant,  nay,  more,  that  she  sanctioned  it,  her  astonishment 
was  without  bounds. 

"  Father  must  have  been  bereft  of  his  senses." 

"I  think  not,"  the  mother  replied  solemnly,  and  with  a 
reverential  voice.  "  He  knew  it  weeks  before  he  left  us ; 
and  I  shall  certainly  maintain  and  cherish  the  trust  he  left 
with  me." 

"Bella  has  been  always  hanging  about  you,  and  she 
made  babies  of  you  both,"  said  Nellie. 

In  her  excitement  she  forgot  that  one  of  the  accused  was 
where  he  could  not  reply.  But  Mrs.  Forresst  did  not  forget ; 
and  tears  came  in  her  eyes  as  Nellie  turned  away.  The 
latter,  stepping  lightly,  almost  on  her  toes,  as  she  went, 
muttered  to  herself,  "  This  must  be  attended  to  at  once. 
The  idea ! " 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  tell-tale  letter  was  enclosed  in 
another  envelope,  an  explanatory  note  was  with  it ;  and 
Adelaide  was  again  on  her  way  to  the  post-office.  The 
letter  was  sent  to  Mr.  Frederic  Forresst  of  Boston.  "  He 
is  the  best  one  to  manage  the  business,"  Miss  Nellie  re 
marked  as  she  handed  the  letter  to  Adelaide.  "  He  is 
clear-headed,  and  will  know  just  what  to  do." 

And  Bella  sat  in  blissful  ignorance  that  a  letter  had 
come  at  all.  She  was  in  her  cosey  seat  in  her  mother's 
room.  The  mother  came  in  presently,  and  stroked  her  hand 
over  the  soft,  glossy  curls,  but  forebore  to  speak.  Why 
should  she  trouble  the  child,  or  disturb  her  dreams  of  bliss  ? 
She  would  be  her  secret  friend,  and,  however  they  might 
attempt  to  annoy  her,  they  should  not  succeed }  for  was  not 


OB,  THE  CKADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  35 

she  the  dying  charge  of  one  whose  word  should  be  forever 
esteemed? 

Nellie  and  Adelaide  slept  that  night  in  peace.  They 
were  confident  that  Mr.  Frederic  would  immediately  attend 
to  the  case.  He  would  never  permit  the  son  of  Chauncey 
Beale  to  enter  their  family ;  for,  though  Mr.  Beale  was  a 
worthy  man,  he  never  had  the  "  least  bit  of  a  knack  at 
money."  It  was  sure  to  slip  out  of  his  hands  if  it 
slipped  in ;  and  most  likely  Mortimer  would  be  just  like 
him. 

"  I  cannot  keep  it  out  of  my  mind,"  said  Miss  Nellie.  "  I 
would  tell  Harry ;  only  he's  just  what  he  is,  and,  very 
likely,  will  go  right  against  us.  But  Frederic  we  can 
trust." 

As  it  regarded  Frederic,  the  oldest  brother,  Miss  Nellie 
was  correct.  In  three  days  he  presented  his  distinguished- 
looking  person  in  the  house  of  his  mother.  His  plan  was 
formed  within  an* hour  from  his  reception  of  the  letter ;  and 
he  had  come  laden  with  dress-patterns,  and  every  toilet- 
preparation  for  the  outfit  of  a  young  girl. 

To  Nellie  and  Adelaide  he  said,  "  Silence  is  the  best 
strategy  in  such  cases.  You  were  wise  in  sending  to  me. 
I  planned  it  at  once." 

To  his  mother  he  said,  "Dear  madam,  I  have  been  think 
ing  of  Bella.  Now  that  father  is  gone,  I  trust  that  you 
will  allow  me  to  become  her  second  father ;  and  I  propose 
that  we  take  her  out  of  this  common  arena,  and  fit  her  for 
a  higher  sphere.  She  is  growing^to  be  very  beautiful; 
and  you,  I  am  sure,  would  like  to  see  her  with  a  finished 
education.  I  propose  sending  her  to  a  convent  for  a 
time." 

A  perceptible  shudder  passed  through  Mrs.  Forresst's 
frame  j  and  she  replied  quickly,  — 


36  BELLA  ; 

"Surely  you  will  not  take  from  me  my  most  precious 
comfort." 

"  It  is  for  her  good,  mother ;  and  surely  you  are  not  so 
selfish  as  to  keep  her  in  your  presence  to  her  injury.  I 
shall  return  her  to  you  beautified." 

In  the  "surely"  of  Mr.  Frederic,  Mrs.  Forresst  recog 
nized  the  voice  of  her  own  blood  in  masculine  strength 
and  manhood's  prime.  She  yielded  before  it ;  and,  wiping 
the  drops  from  her  eyelids,  she  said,  "  I  am  become  but  a 
dry  and  useless  branch.  Do  with  me  as  you  will." 

"Thanks,  madam!  I  knew  you  would  exercise  your 
usual  good  sense;  and  therefore,  without  consulting  you,  I 
have  written  to  '  The  Holy  Virgin,'  a  most  excellent  con 
vent  in  Canada ;  and  I  have  brought  materials  for  her  out 
fit.  Nellie  and  Adelaide  will  lend  their  assistance,  I  pre 
sume." 

The  mother's  heart  was  full  of  misgivings;  but,  as  she 
had  said,  she  was  an  old  woman  now,  aiid  her  children  were 
her  rulers. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go,"  said  the  jhiJd.  "  I  want  to  stay 
with  you,  mother." 

"  But  I  shall  not  forget  you,  my  daughter.  You  will  not 
be  out  of  my  mind  for  a  moment ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that 
you  will  not  cease  to  think  of  me.  We  will  live  together 
in  spirit,  if  we  can  in  no  other  way." 

"  So  we  will,  darling  mother ;  and  every  night  I  will  put 
a  kiss  on  my  pillow,  and  think  it  is  you." 

Then  Mrs.  Forresst  put  an  arm  around  the  fair  young 
neck,  and  said,  "Every  night  I  will  send  up  a  prayer  to 
my  God,  and  tell  him  it  is  for  you." 

Bella  looked  up  with  a  hopeful  smile.  "  God  will  hear 
your  prayers,  mother." 

And  thus,  in  the  midst  of  the  hurrying  preparations, 
they  found  time  to  comfort  each  other ;  and  for  one  other 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  37 

duty,  also,  Bella  found  time.  She  wrote  to  Mortimer,  and 
in  her  simple  way  told  him  what  had  happened,  and  gave 
him  her  coming  address. 

"  You  must  write  often,  oh,  so  often ! "  she  said  in  clos 
ing,  "  or  I  shall  be  very,  very  homesick,  and  cry  to  think  I 
am  away  so  far." 


38  BELLA  ; 


CHAPTER  V. 

That  is  a  new  move  in  our  family ! " 
The  voice  was  Edward  Forresst's.     Again  he  was 
reading  a  letter ;  but  this  time  it  was  not  his  own. 
It  was  the  few  lines  that  Bella  had  sent  to  Morti- 
""    mer. 

"  A  convent  I  As  though  there  were  not  plenty  of  Protes 
tant  schools  in  our  country !  And  in  Canada  too  !  Can 
not  patronize  our  own  country  in  any  thing !  Mr.  Fred  is 
outgrowing  himself." 

"He  is  putting  Bella  beyond  my  reach,  that  is  all," 
responded  Mortimer,  a  troubled  flash  lighting  his  eyes, 
at  which  Edward  caught  with  a  quick  reply,  — 

"Don't  worry  about  that.  Going  to  a  convent  won't 
change  her;  and  you  have  got  me  and  mother  on  your  side. 
And  father  was  there." 

"  But  he  is  gone ;  and  what  can  you  or  your  mother  do 
against  Mr.  Frederic,  and  Miss  Nellie,  and  all  the  rest  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  am  a  Montague  also,"  Edward  replied;  "and 
they  will  find  me  a  hard  customer  when  this  war  is  over. 
Till  then,  we  are  soldiers,  you  know." 

Boys  are  not  apt  to  look  on  the  dark  side  very  long ;  and 
these  two  were  but  boys.  They  soon  turned  their  tune  of 
sadness,  and  planned  the  glories  of  a  besieging-campaign, 
—  how  they  would  go  up  to  "The  Holy  Virgin,"  and  way 
lay  their  trophy  by  some  heroic  means,  and  make  them 
selves  famous  as  stormers  of  castles.  Thev  were  almost 


OR,  THE  CRADLB  OF  LIBERTY.  39 

glad  she  was  there ;  for  otherwise  they  might  never  have 
had  a  chance  to  display  their  prowess. 

Meantime  Bella  bade  the  old  homestead  farewell,  and 
went  her  lonely  journey,  encouraged,  before  she  started,  by 
the  very  mother  who  would  most  keenly  feel  her  absence. 
She  was  expected  at  "  The  Holy  Virgin."  The  great  doors 
opened  for  her  admission,  and  closed  their  portals  when 
she  had  passed  through.  ;  -v, 

"It  is  not  so  bad  as  I  expected,"  Bella  thought  as  soon 
as  she  had  time  to  look  around,  and  had  been  before  the 
lady  superior,  and  seen  the  sisters.  She  had  forebodings 
of  grimness  and  austerity  and  penances  and  bead-count 
ing;  but,  if  these  things  were  there,  she  did  not  see 
them.  It  was  quite  natural  that  she  should  not.  The  re 
ality  and  depth  of  things  are  not  apparent  till  time  and 
stress  reveal  them. 

She  saw  pleasant  ladies  with  courteous  manners  and 
pure  grace.  They  spoke  to  her  with  tenderness,  and 
showed  her  to  her  room,  which  was  a  curtained  recess  with 
a  little  bed  behind  it,  and  a  long  open  space,  where  five  or 
six  girls  stood  grouped,  looking  with  curiosity  at  the  new 
scholar.  Every  thing  was  refined,  delicate,  and  pure  ;  and 
there  was  a  sweet  grace  in  the  manners  of  the  convent 
ladies.  When  Bella  became  more  accustomed  to  it,  she 
thought  it  a  charming  life  for  a  little  time;  but  for  a  life 
time  —  "  Oh  ! "  she  shuddered. 

There  was  a  charm  in  hearing  the  sisters  talk  of  holy 
joys,  the  communion  of  saints,  the  immaculate  purity  of 
the  Blessed  Mother,  and  the  sweetness  of  being  consecrated 
to  the  holy  church,  whose  portals  opened  to  the  portals 
above. 

What  Bella  missed  in  this  community  was  nature.  That 
which  God  has  implanted  in  humanity,  and  which  is,  there 
fore,  divine  was  here  left  out.  The  natural  loves  of  con- 


40  BELLA  ; 

sanguinity,  the  ties  of  kindred  blood,  and  the  ties  by  which 
kindred  are  created,  were  crushed  in  this  ascetic  life;  and 
to  Bella  it  seemed  cruel  to  shut  out  nature.  God  made 
nature ;  and  they  who  restrict  its  loves  restrict  and  shut 
out  God.  For  Bella's  warm  soul  such  a  life  would  be 
misery ;  and  she  wondered  whether  those  sweet  sisters 
would  not  be  more  happy  if  they  had  natural  homes  and 
the  loves  that  God  himself  has  implanted  on  the  earth. 

In  her  schoolmates  she  found  natural  feelings  like  her 
own,  with  their  different  characteristics,  like  all  school 
girls  ;  and  like  all  young,  warm-hearted  girls,  she  made 
the  best  of  what  had  come  to  her.  When  she  had  a  letter 
from  Mortimer,  it  would  be  "  all  right,"  she  thought,  and 
waited  patiently  for  the  letter  to  come. 

The  days  passed  away,  and  she  became  used  to  the  rou 
tine  of  daily  duties ;  knew  which  of  the  pupils  she  liked 
best,  and  which  of  the  teachers;  and  began  to  feel  herself 
a  part  of  the  establishment.  She  was  introduced  into  the 
orchestra,  among  the  chanting-girls,  whose  dresses  of  pure 
white  seemed  symbolic  of  the  higher  land  whose  glories 
they  sang;  and  the  day  of  her  introduction  was  celebrated 
by  a  little  feast  of  cake  and  other  good  things.  A  new 
enchantment  was  about  her,  a  new  aurora  encompassed 
her.  But  for  Mortimer,  she  might  almost  have  been  lured 
to  say  she  would  remain  forever  in  this  seraphic  life.  But 
she  would  not  have  remained  happy  in  it  forever.  Her 
nature  was  too  warm  and  impulsive,  and  too  full  of  human 
love,  to  continue  happy  in  a  state  of  this  spiritual  looking- 
forward.  In  her  young  soul  there  were  fountains  of  the 
domestic  loves ;  and  she  waited  only  for  the  right  master 
to  kindle  them  into  living  flames. 

But  into  this  convent-life  there  came  to  her  no  letter 
from  Mortimer,  nor  yet  from  Edward.  This  worried  her ; 
and  she  could  scarce  keep  it  from  her  mind.  In  the  pleas- 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  41 

ant  embroidery-room  she  sat  one  afternoon,  while  around 
were  several  girls,  all  busy  with  their  needles,  under  the 
care  of  Sister  Nativitie.  Flosses  and  worsteds,  silks  and 
linen  threads,  were  lying  around ;  and  the  girls,  sitting 
among  them,  looked  like  fairies  in  a  bower,  with  a  Madon 
na  fairy  at  their  head. 

Serene  in  brow,  waxen  as  a  white  lily  in  face,  Nativitie 
seemed  as  one  too  frail  and  delicate  for  power;  yet  her 
power  of  will  was  stronger  than  death  itself;  for  she  would 
have  met  that  monster  with  fearless  eyes. 

What  an  anomaly  is  human  nature  !  This  holy  woman 
would  have  walked  over  a  field  of  corpses  at  dead  of  night 
to  carry  to  Mortimer  a  cup  of  water  for  his  thirst ;  but  at 
this  moment  she  knew  where  lay  a  letter  from  him  for  her 
young  pupil,  and  she  would  not  even  give  it  to  her. 

It  had  been  stipulated  by  Frederic  Forresst,  that  letters 
from  the  South  should  be  withheld  from  his  young  sister, 
inasmuch  as  -a  pertinacious  young  man  was  troubling  her 
with  an  undesirable  correspondence  ;  and  he  trusted  to  the 
holy  sisters  to  preserve  her  from  harm.  He  could  not  have 
found  a  more  conscientious  trustee  than  Nativitie. 

Bella  dropped  a  tear  in  that  embroidery-room.  The 
tear  fell  upon  the  floss  of  a  leaf  she  had  just  laid.  She 
looked  up  hastily  to  see  whether  Nativitie  was  observing, 
and  was  relieved  at  seeing  that  sister  busily  engaged  on  a 
tangled  skein  of  silk.  She  had  not  seen  the  tear;  but 
somebody  else  had.  A  pair  of  soft  blue  eyes  were  looking 
directly  at  Bella's  face;  and  a  chair  was  hitched  softly 
toward  her  by  little  Lola  Street,  a  Baltimorean,  and  also  a 
pupil.  Lola  was  a  delicate  creature,  of  golden  auburn  hair  ; 
and  her  work  was  a  gossamer  collar  of  lace,  into  whose 
meshes  she  was  deftly  interlacing  the  most  fairy  work. 
She  moved  toward  Bella,  and  stooped,  apparently  to  com 
pare  work;  but,  as  she  stooped,  she  murmured,  "That 


42  BELLA ; 

pearly  drop  —  it  cannot  be  a  penitent  tear.  Me  parlez; 
a  I' ami." 

"  It  is  nothing,"  was  the  murmured  response. 

"  Quoi ! "  responded  Lola.  "  I  see  a  pearly  drop  so 
fine,  so  pure.  Grief  brings  it  out.  Sympathy  would  be  its 
cure.  Parlez-vous  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  I  cannot ! " 

"  Ma  chere  amie  /     One  little  word  !  " 

" I  dare  not." 

The  cooing  voices  roused  Nativitie.  She  turned  her 
eyes  from  the  silk,  and  looked  inquisitively  at  the  mur 
muring  girls.  How  harmless  they  looked !  And  how  de 
murely  they  were  comparing  flosses,  while  their  innocent* 
eyes  glanced  furtively,  as  if  modesty  itself  were  sitting 
there  !  She  turned  back  to  her  tangled  skein.  "  It  is  all 
right,"  she  thought.  The  doves  cooed  on.  Lola  softly 
urged,  — 

"  Ma  belle  Bella.     Je  n'ai  qu'un  ami."      •  , 

" Je  parle  V Anglais"  answered  the  more  practical 
Bella. 

"  IS  Anglais,  then,"  said  Lola,  smiling.  "I  know  all 
about  you." 

"  You  know  nothing  at  all." 

"  I  know  all.  Your  heart  is  aching  for  him.  You  are 
desolate  here.  It  is  un  sujet  de  tristesse." 

"  0  Lola  !  how  did  you  know  ?  " 

"By  love's  own  light.  Have  I  no  heart?  Ah,  me, 
j'aime  !  " 

"  You  !  "  exclaimed  Bella.     "  Do  you  love  ?  " 

"  Hush  ! "  responded  Lola,  and  glanced  toward  Nativi- 
tie.  "  How  lovely  is  this  floss !  See  my  vine !  So 
true  ! " 

She  held  her  work  before  Bella.  Nativitie  looked  up 
again,  and  smiled  as  she  saw  them  engrossed  with  their 


OB,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  43 

"  How  happy  they  are ! "  she  said  to  herself.  "  Holy 
Mother,  keep  them  ever  from  the  wicked  one."  Then  she 
returned  to  her  silk.  Lola  touched  Bella's  arm,  and  again 
murmured,  — 

"  Heart  reads  heart.  In  the  garden,  after  lunch.  Will 
you  walk  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Out,  then,"  murmured  Lola.     "  It  is  enough." 

When  next  Nativitie  looked,  they  were  busily  at  work, 
and  so  continued  till  the  hour  for  lunch.  Nativitie  praised 
them  for  their  industry ;  and  they  went  out  together,  eager 
for  their  lettt~a-f,ete.  In  the  passage  they  met  Sister  Ma- 
tildie. 

They  liked  Matildie.  She  was  less  au__,.e,  and  seemed 
to  have  an  idea  thaf  voung  eirls  must  have  natural  feei- 
ings.  They  stopped  her  in  the  passage  :  both  their  faces 
came  close  to  hers,  and  they  said  pleadingly,  "  It  is  lovely 
in  the  garden.  Will  you  go  with  us  ?  " 

"  Now  ?  "  queried  the  sister. 

«  Oui." 

Matildie  looked  caressingly  upon  the  two  young  crea 
tures,  who  stood  before  her  in  all  the  smiles  of  youth  ;  and 
a  sense  of  their  loneliness  stole  into  her  consciousness. 
She  had  never  been  able  to  "marbleize"  herself,  as  Nativi- 
tie  had.  Around  Matildie' s  soul  there  always  hovered  the 
breathings  of  humanity.  She  was  the  music-teacher;  and 
the  girls  never  wearied  of  listening  to  her  ravishing 
strains.  Pure  they  were,  foretasting  the  heavenly  beati 
tudes  to  which  she  was  pledged;  but  yet  they  were  full  of 
a  luscious  richness,  as  though  she  did  not  disdain  the  earth 
from  which  she  was  created,  nor  wholly  discard  its  God- 
given,  natural  loves. 

The  garden  was  quiet  and  beautiful,  like  a  holy  retreat. 
The  high  wall  of  its  border  made  it  like  an  island  of  seclu- 


44  BELLA ; 

sion  ;  and  the  paths  winding  among  the  verdure  were  like 
paths  among  the  paradisaical  spots  of  easth. 

"  If  we  could  only  open  the  gates  when  we  choose," 
Bella  thought,  "  it  would  seem  perfectly  beautiful.  But 
those  locks !  "  She  sighed  as  she  took  Lola's  arm  within 
hers,  yet  not  long.  She  was  too  young  and  too  healthy 
to  feel  for  long  the  shady  side  of  life.  Her  nature  re 
bounded  into  gladness ;  and  the  hope  of  something  beauti 
ful  was  always  before  her. 

Matildie  walked  quietly  forward,  her  fine  instincts  tell 
ing  her  that  the  doves  wanted  to  coo  alone  ;  and  she  did  not 
fear  to  let  them  coo.  Nativitie  was  in  her  chamber  at  that 
moment,  at  prayer  for  the  souls  of  her  pupils ;  and  Matildie 
walked  beneath  the  budding  trees,  giving  to  her  young 
charge  such  happiness  as  she  could. 

Before  the  two  girls  returned  to  the  house,  they  knew 
each  other's  histories.  Lola  told  Bella  of  Baltimore,  the 
city  of  her  birth,  —  of  the  grand  old  home  where  she  was 
born,  and  how  her  father  and  mother  died,  and  she  was  put 
under  a  guardian,  who  took  her  to  Washington  one  winter; 
and  there  she  saw  a  pair  of  glorious  eyes  that  flamed  out 
upon  her,  and  seemed  to  swallow  her  in  their  depths,  and 
she  was  so  happy !  But  her  guardian  was  not  pleased 
with  it,  and  said  the  young  man  meant  to  swallow  her 
fortune  as  well  as  herself.  "How  could  he  think  such 
baseness  of  my  noble  Wilhelm  Franz  ?  "  asked  Lola  a?  <*he 
closed  her  tale. 

"  That  is  not  an  English  name  ?  "  said  Bella. 

"  No,  my  Wilhelm  is  a  Swede.  My  guardian  said  he 
was  an  adventurer;  but  it  is  not  so.  He  came  to  this 
country  to  study ;  and  he  loves  to  study ;  and  he  has  such 
eyes  !  You  ought  to  see  them,  ma  belle  Bella.  The  first 
time  we  met  we  loved ;  the  second,  we  were  engaged." 

"So  soon!"  said  Bella.  "Before  you  knew  any  thing 
about  him  ?  " 


OK,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  45 

"Didn't  I  know?  Why,  I  tell  you  I  read  his  eyes  the 
first  time  we  met." 

"  Do  you  expect  to  see  him  again  ?  " 

"  Oui,  ma  belle  Bella :  so  surely  as  he  lives,  he  will  find 
me  in  this  place." 

And  she  was  not  wrong  in  her  prediction.  If  we  should 
go  back  a  little,  and  take  a  peep  into  a  large  hack-parlor  of 
Washington,  we  should  see  a  young  man  with  large,  lus 
trous  eyes,  busily  engaged  in  packing,  not  furniture,  but 
specimens  of  the  earth's  treasures  that  he  had  collected. 
There  were  corals  from  Florida,  fish  from  the  Mississippi, 
rocks,  sea-weeds,  butterflies,  beetles,  skulls  of  defunct  ani 
mals,  shells,  skeletons,  mosses,  and  a  multitude  of  other 
natural  curiosities,  that  all  spoke  to  him  a  language  of  life. 
He  was  packing  them  now  for  storage  while  he  took 
another  excursion. 

This  time  it  was  Canada  he  was  to  explore.  He  knew 
of  an  oriole  that  had  flown  thither  ;  and  why  couldn't  he  go 
there  also  ?  He  went ;  and,  if  we  had  been  loitering  about 
"  The  Holy  Virgin  "  a  few  days  after  that,  we  should  have 
seen  another  loiterer  there  also  ;  and  we  should  have  seen 
how  a  pair  of  eyes  were  spying,  and  yet  did  not  seem  to 
spy,  and  a  pair  of  ears  were  listening,  yet  did  not  seem  to 
hear ;  for  the  owner  of  the  eyes  and  ears  seemed  to  be  busy 
gathering  mosses,  rocks,  grasses,  and  any  thing  that  he 
could  find  of  nature.  If  we  could  have  read  his  thoughts, 
we  should  have  seen  a  little  sentence  written  there  :  "  I 
shall  get  a  glimpse  of  her  in  some  way." 

In  fact,  that  which  Mortimer  and  Edward  planned  in 
the  heroic  future,  Wilhelm  Franz  was  putting  into  present 
execution. 

For  a  day  or  two  past  he  had  been  engaged  in  the 
boyish  employment  of  flying  a  kite,  but  thus  far  unsuccess 
fully.  This  afternoon,  however,  as  the  girls  were  walking 


46  BELLA ; 

and  talking  in  mutual  confidence,  somebody  outside  the 
wall  said,  "Ha  !"  Whether  the  sound  of  their  voices  had 
gone  over  the  wall,  or  through  it,  mattered  not.  Somebody 
had  heard ;  and  in  the  next  moment  a  kite  went  flying  up 
in  the  air.  It  soared  over  the  garden,  and  caught  the  atten 
tion  of  the  two  girls.  Matildie  also  saw  it  ;  and  the  three 
stood  in  silent  admiration  of  its  fluttering  ascent,  when,  lo ! 
it  fell  like  a  bird  with  cut  wing.  Down,  down,  it  came, 
lower  and  yet  lower,  beating  about  like  a  defeated  eagle  ; 
and  the  three  stood  watching  till  it  fluttered  to  their  feet, 
and  lay  there  helpless. 

"What  a  beautiful  kite ! "  said  Matildie. 

The  girls  stooped  to  examine  it ;  and  there  they  read  a 
name  stretched  across  the  middle  in  large  characters, 
"  Wilhelm  Franz."  At  the  same  instant  a  voice  sounded 
behind.  "  Pardon,  ladies,  I  was  most  culpably  careless." 
Turning,  they  saw  a  head  above  the  wall ;  and  a  pair  of 
luminous  eyes  were  looking  directly  into  the  sacred  en 
closure. 

"  Pardon,  ladies !  "  and  a  low  bow  greeted  their  upturned 
eyes.  "  How  shall  I  get  my  truant,  unless  you  will  be  so 
kind  as  to  bear  it  up  here  to  the  wall  ?  " 

Matildie  blushed  like  a  girl,  and  was  on  the  point  of  re 
buking  the  young  intruder;  but  her  natural  politeness  pre 
vailed,  and  she  said,  "  True,  the  gentleman  is  guilty  of  an 
indiscretion;  but  we  will  assist  him  in  his  trouble,  and  may 
the  Virgin  forgive  us !  Bear  you  the  kite,  and  I  will  fol 
low  to  see  that  no  harm  comes  to  you." 

They  did  not  need  a  second  direction ;  but,  seizing  it 
between  them,  they  bore  it  across  the  intervening  space, 
and  held  it  aloft  to  the  extended  arms  of  the  young  man, 
who  stood  there  with  the  coolness  of  a  daring  gymnastic 
performer. 

Wilhelm  Franz  had  played  his  part  well.      He  knew 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  47 

Lola's  voice  the  instant  he  heard  it.  She  spoke  with 
softness  always ;  but  her  tones  were  clear  and  musical  as 
the  chiming  of  vesper-bells.  Wilhelm  had  caught  their 
first  intonations ;  and,  swiftly  rushing  to  the  windward  side 
of  the  garden,  he  sent  his  kite  soaring.  It  went  above 
the  enclosed  space,  as  he  knew  it  would;  and,  when  it  had 
reached  the  centre,  he  severed  the  string  with  his  pocket- 
knife.  Now  as  he  saw  the  kite  coming  toward  him, 
borne  on  one  side  by  Lola  herself,  he  took  out  a  paper 
from  an  inner  pocket ;  and,  as  the  girls  raised  the  kite  to 
his  hands,  he  dropped  the  paper  at  Lola's  feet.  In  the 
next  moment  the  great  bell  of  the  convent  rang. 

The  girls  started  in  affright,  and  Matildie  turned  waxen 
pale.  "  We  have  been  seen,"  she  said.  "  Holy  Mother, 
forgive  us  ! " 

The  three  ladies  went  hastily  in.  They  were  met  at  the 
door  by  Sister  Cecilie.  Her  face  was  long  and  grave,  her 
manner  that  of  a  solemn  judge. 

"  The  lady  superior  desires  you,"  said  Cecilie,  at  the  same 
time  leading  the  way. 

Bella  was  in  a  tremor,  which  increased  as  Lola  came 
close  to  her,  and  stealthily  pressed  into  her  pocket  a  folded 
paper.  In  Lola's  face  there  was  a  holy  joy.  She  had 
seen  those  eyes;  her  Wilhelm  was  near:  it  was  enough. 
She  came  before  the  lady  superior  with  a  face  serene  as  a 
cloudless  sky,  and  impervious  as  soul  could  make  it.  She 
heard  the  accusation.  Cecilie,  chancing  to  look  from  her 
window,  had  witnessed  the  proceedings,  and  said  she  saw  a 
paper  fall  from  the  gentleman's  hand.  The  lady  superior 
looked  distressed. 

But  Lola  was  calm  and  firm. 

" It  is  true,"  she  said.  "An  inadvertence,  I  suppose.  I 
picked  up  this." 

She  placed   in  the  lady   superior's   hand  an  envelope. 


48  BELLA ; 

It  was  utterly  blank.  Not  a  mark,  nor  even  a  scratch,  was 
on  it.  Wilhelm  had  been  wise. 

"  Did  you  pick  up  nothing  ? "  asked  the  lady  superior 
of  Bella. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Bella  laconically ;  but  at  the  moment 
she  tremblingly  grasped  the  folded  paper  in  her  pocket,  as 
though  she  would  keep  it  there. 

Nothing  more  could  be  elicited ;  but  upon  Matildie 
penances  were  laid,  —  not  severe,  however  ;  for  Matildie's 
lovely  rectitude  had  hitherto  caused  her  to  be  a  favorite. 
Walks  in  the  garden  were  forbidden  for  a  time ;  and  the 
pupils  settled  down  into  quiet  and  unnatural  studiousness. 

Lola  read  her  letter  in  gilence  ere  she  slept,  and  on  the 
morrow  she  made  no  outward  sign.  Not  even  Bella  knew 
the  contents ;  but  in  the  thoughts  and  plans  of  the  delicate 
girl  a  change  was  progressing.  The  owner  of  the  kite  did 
not  leave  the  place.  He  lingered  around,  still  gathering 
mosses,  and  watching  every  motion  that  could  possibly  be 
seen  from  the  outside.  The  house  seemed  to  him  like  a 
place  where  humanity  was  striving  painfully  to  divest 
itself  of  its  God-given  attributes. 

His  perseverance  met  its  reward.  Before  the  time  for 
bidden  to  the  garden  had  expired,  the  lady  superior  so  far 
relented  of  her  stringent  rule  as  to  permit  the  pupils  a  walk 
outside,  —  a  favor  not  uncommon  in  ordinary  times,  and 
desirable  for  the  pupils'  health.  Matildie  was  not  allowed 
to  go  ;  but  Nativitie  could  be  trusted.  "No  harm  will  come 
to  my  pupils  if  Nativitie  takes  charge  of  the  walk,"  the 
superior  said. 

Bella  was  delighted  with  the  thought  of  the  walk,  and 
almost  danced  with  glee.  But  Lola  was  quiet,  and,  going 
to  her  window,  slily  suspended  a  thread  therefrom ;  and  at 
the  end  of  the  thread  a  white  paper  fluttered.  Nothing  was 
written  on  the  paper ;  but  it  told  its  tale  nevertheless,  and 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  49 

the  moss-gatherer  understood  it.  The  hour  for  the  walk 
came ;  and,  as  Nativitie  led  her  band  up  a  quiet  road,  a 
stout  Canadian  horse  rolled  up  behind  the  party ;  a  man 
leaped  from  the  carriage ;  a  pair  of  strong  arms  seized  upon 
Lola ;  a  pair  of  luminous  eyes  flashed  back  defiance ;  a  leap 
was  taken  to  the  carriage  again,  —  and  Lola  was  gone  from 
the  convent  to  return  no  more. 


60  BELLA 


CHAPTER  VI. 

went  on,  and  glorious,  leafy  aummer  came. 
But  not  to  all  did  she  bring  plenty  and  joy  and 
peace.  Beneath  her  skies  trouble  lurked ;  and  on 
that  summer's  night  the  stars  looked  down  on  a 
piteous  spectacle.  Friends  and  foes  lay  together; 
and  the  night-breezes  blew  over  all.  The  horse  and  his 
rider  were  fallen  together;  and  the  same  mandate  had 
hushed  both  in  a  rest  that  would  never  be  broken.  Night 
drew  her  merciful  drapery  around  the  scene,  and  her  dews 
were  like  a  soft  mantle  over  sorrow  and  woe. 

Deep  in*  the  centre  of  that  night,  and  deep  in  the  middle 
of  that  field,  a  soldier  raised  his  head.  The  midnight 
damps  were  on  his  brow.  His  hair  was  tangled  with  the 
gore  of  fallen  men.  Near  him  were  corpses,  men  lying  in 
uniform,  staring  into  the  heavens  above.  The  ground  was 
furrowed  with  seams,  and'  trampled  with  the  footprints  of 
deadly  fight. 

The  rising  soldier  gazed  around  him  with  mute  sensations. 
It  seemed  that  he  had  heard  the  voice  of  the  Master  calling 
in  the  cool  of  the  night ;  and,  rising,  he  said,  "  Here  am  I." 
He  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow.  He  stretched  his  aching 
limbs  and  his  strong  frame.  He  felt  a  thirst ;  but  there 
was  no  water  within  his  reach.  His  tongue  was  hot,  and 
•  his  lips  dry.  He  opened  them  to  the  night-wind,  and  it 
entered  with  cooling  strength.  "  I  shall  live,"  he  said.  "J 
•will  get  up  and  stand  among  these  who  are  dead." 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  51 

But,  when  he  attempted  to  stand,  a  pain  caught  him  in 
the  side,  and  he  dropped.  He  felt  a  gushing :  it  was  his 
own  blood,  and  he  knew  it.  For  a  time  he  lay  quite  still, 
and  the  flowing  ceased;  but  the  thirst,  the  tormenting  thirst, 
continued :  it  tortured  him.  Suddenly,  however,  his  full 
consciousness  returned.  He  thought  of  his  canteen  :  it  was 
not  empty,  and  he  drank.  Then  he  bound  his  handker 
chief  over  the  wound,  and  lay  quite  still.  Among  all  those 
forms  around  him  he  alone  had  life.  He  thanked  his  God 
for  himself;  but  he  sorrowed  for  the  less  fortunate,  for  those 
who  had  gone  before  their  time,  hastened  into  the  eternal 
Presence  by  this  sanguinary  fight.  Then  he  slept. 

When  he  awoke  the  sun  was  gilding  the  open  cemetery 
about  him.  It  was  ghastly  ;  and  he  closed  his  eyes  with  a 
sickening  sensation.  He  lay  a  little  while.  The  sun  came 
up,  and  cleared  the  mists  away.  The  beauty  of  the  opening 
day  fell  upon  the  ghostly  carnival.  Then  came  sounds  of 
voices.  Living  men  were  walking  among  the  dead.  The 
sound  revived  the  soldier,  and  once  more  he  raised  his  head. 
Instantly  half  a  dozen  men  sprang  towards  him. 

"  Capt.  Beale,  Capt.  Beale !  The  Lord  be  praised ! 
We  thought  you  were  gone  forever." 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  Mortimer.  "  I  am  a  little  damaged, 
though.  How  went  the  battle  ?  " 

"  Hard  enough  for  both  sides,"  was  the  answer  from  one 
of  the  men.  "  There  may  be  glory  in  war ;  but  there's  a 
pesky  sight  that  isn't  glory." 

They  made  a  litter,  and  then  carried  the  soldier  away. 
He  was  counted  among  the  living,  and  not  among  the  dead. 

But  he  had  been  reported  dead ;  and  his  comrades,  who 
had  learned  to  love  him,  and  had  witnessed  his  promotion 
with  pleasure,  had  mourned  for  him  as  for  the  departed. 
A  message  had  gone  North  to  the  father  ;  and  that  father 
had  bowed  in  grief,  —  he  groaned  in  his  cottage.  And  the 
mother  wept,  for  the  pride  of  her  life  was  taken  away. 


52  BELLA ; 

"  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  son,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I 
will  bring  his  bones  to  thee,  his  mother." 

By  express-trains,  with  eager  haste,  he  hurried.  Sorrow 
was  in  his  soul ;  the  lines  of  grief  were  on  his  brow.  Over 
the  rails  the  car- wheels  whirled ;  over  the  ground  the  train 
thundered. 

Said  a  Turcoman  chief,  "  My  horse  can  gallop  a  hundred 
miles  a  day  for  six  days  together,  and  still  be  fresh." 

But  the  Turcoman  steed  pales  utterly  beside  the  iron 
horse.  He  never  tires.  Feed  him  with  caloric  and  water, 
and  he  will  run  a  race  that  the  Turcoman  never  conceived 
in  his  wildest  and  most  Tartaric  moods.  Thus  the  iron 
horse  bore  Chauncey  Beale  to  his  son.  His  heart  was  in 
his  mouth.  He  trembled  as  he  stood  before  the  colonel,  and 
asked  for  the  dead  body  of  his  son.  But  the  colonel  sprang 
to  his  feet,  and  grasped  the  old  man's  hand.  "  Your  son 
was  dead,  and  is  alive  again." 

"  Alive  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Beale.     "  Is  Mortimer  alive  ?  " 

"  I  am  happy,  sir,  to  say  that  Capt.  Beale  is  alive." 

There  is  no  need  to  speak*  of  what  followed.  Not  every 
father  who  went  to  the  camp  in  that  war  was  so  blessed. 

When  Mr.  Beale  returned  home,  he  had  the  living  form 
of  a  living  son ;  and  he  had  another,  who  was  even  more 
deeply  wounded  than  Mortimer,  but  who,  being  taken  up 
among  the  wounded,  had  not  been  reported  dead.  That 
other  was  Edward  Forresst.  Together  the  boys  had  gone 
out ;  together  the  men  had  come  back,  thankful  that  they 
were  alive.  As  children,  they  had  loved  each  other ;  as 
men,  their  hearts  were  close-knit.  Mrs.  Beale  received  her 
son  in  her  little  parlor ;  Mrs.  Forresst  took  hers  into  her 
spacious  house :  but  the  same  sweet  motherly  love  gilded 
both  places. 

Now  it  was  a  question  of  time  and  patience,  and 
strength  of  constitution,  and  good  nursing ;  and  the  boy 


OE,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  63 

in  the  cottage  gained  upon  the  boy  in  the  mansion.  Mor 
timer  was  speedily  better ;  but  Edward  halted.  He  was 
feverish  and  restive ;  and  the  days  were  a  burden  to  him. 
His  mother  worked  for  him ;  his  sisters  worked ;  and  Harry 
was  on  constant  watch. 

"  Mother,"  said  Edward  one  day,  "  I  am  going  away  to 
that  better  land." 

The  mother  clasped  her  hands. 

"  Say  not  so,  my  Edward." 

"I  say  as  it  seems  to  me,  mother.  I  am  going  away; 
and  I  want  Bella." 

"  You  shall  have  her,"  said  the  mother,  and  went  down 
to  find  her  other  children.  She  told  them  what  Edward 
said,  and  added  her  wish  that  Bella  should  be  immediately 
sent  for. 

What  is  human  nature  ?  Even  in  that  hour  Miss 
Nellie  demurred.  "  Send  for  Bella ;  and  here  is  Morti 
mer  Beale  close  by !  " 

"Nellie,"  said  the  mother  sternly,  "think  of  Ed 
ward!" 

Something  in  the  words  and  look  made  Nellie  ashamed. 
She  said  no  more ;  but,  taking  her  pen,  she  wrote  for  Bella 
to  come  to  her  dying  brother. 
6* 


54  BELLA ; 


CHAPTER   VII. 

HEY  were  sorry  at  the  convent,  —  sorry  for  Bella's 
misfortune,  sorry  to  lose  her.  She  was  both  sorry 
and  glad.  She  wept  for  Edward,  but  she  was 
heartily  glad  to  go  home ;  for,  though  her  inter- 
course  with  the  sisters  had  been  pleasant,  she  longed 
for  her  mother's  bosom  and  her  familiar  home.  She  bade 
the  sisters  farewell  with  joy  and  gladness,  with  smiles  and 
yet  with  tears. 

Once  away,  and  in  the  cars,  and  on  the  road  home,  she 
was  a  new  person.  The  world  seemed  larger,  brighter, 
more  beautiful,  than  she  ever  knew  it ;  and,  but  for  Ed- 
ward,  how  happy  she  could  be  !  When  she  thought  of 
him,  her  childhood's  brother,  the  tears  came  in  her  eyes, 
and  she  looked  forward  with  a  shudder.  Would  he  die 
there,  in  her  own  home,  as  her  father  died  ? 

But  her  thoughts  neither  hurried  nor  retarded  her 
course.  In  due  time  she  reached  the  roomy  house,  stood 
again  on  the  familiar  steps,  and  entered  the  well-remem 
bered  door. 

How  natural  it  seemed !  The  dear  mother  met  her  with 
a  passionate  embrace ;  Harry,  with  his  broad,  strong  face, 
gave  her  a  brotherly  greeting ;  and  even  Nellie  and  Ade 
laide  softened  to  smiles  as  she  came  joyfully  to  kiss  them. 

To  Edward  her  coming  was  a  recuperative  power.  It 
seemed  that  he  needed  her  exuberance  of  health  and 
spirits.  She  looked  at  him,  put  her  arms  about  his  neck, 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  55 

and  said,  "  Why,  Eddie,  you  are  not  going  to  die  !  I  shall 
cure  you." 

She  made  him  have  faith  in  her.  She  flew  up  and  down 
the  stairs  on  tireless  feet ;  she  carried  him  bits  of  every 
good  thing:  she  watched  her  mother  dress  his  wound;  she 
breathed  over  him  her  own  strong  spirit. 

Nellie  and  Adelaide  were  shocked  at  this  overflow  of 
spirits;  but  to  Edward  they  were  as  life-giving  cordials. 
Contrary  to  all  expectations,  the  soldier  began  to  revive ; 
and  the  older  brothers  and  sisters  were  compelled  to  ac 
knowledge  that  the  returned  sister  had  "  done  him  good." 

But  now  came  the  vexed  question  of  Mortimer.  Ed 
ward  would  have  him,  and  the  mother  seconded  her 
wounded  boy.  Nellie  pursed  her  mouth  indignantly,  but 
all  in  vain. 

"  It  had  come  to  fine  times  if  Edward  and  Bella  were 
to  have  their  way  in  every  thing." 

But  the  mother  was  firm  for  her  sick  boy.  He  should 
be  gratified ;  and  thus,  in  spite  of  Miss  Nellie,  it  came 
about  that  Capt.  Beale  and  Bella  met  often  in  Edward's 
chamber,  and  often,  by  Edward's  own  contrivance,  were 
tete-a-tete  in  the  chamber  adjoining. 

They  were  changed  from  formerly.  The  captain's  edu 
cation  had  been  finished  at  the  cannon's  mouth  ;  hers  had 
the  artistic  touch  of  "  The  Holy  Virgins :  "  but  in  aifection 
and  soul  they  were  still  the  same.  Edward  improved 
slowly,  until  he  was  able  to  go  out.  He  could  go  among 
the  neighbors ;  he  could  visit  Mortimer.  There  was  no 
longer  any  need  that  Mortimer  should  come  to  see  him. 
But  still  he  came.  He  was  not  a  boy  in  diffidence  ;  and  yet 
he  dared  not  speak  to  others  of  the  love  that  he  and  Bella 
talked  each  day.  He  felt  ashamed  of  his  cowardice ;  but 
a  fear  of  refusal  held  him  back,  until  at  last  he  said, 
"  Bella,  all  this  is  futile,  unless  your  family  like  me.  After 


56  BELLA  ; 

all,  I  fear  you  never  will  be  mine.  Your  friends,  all  but 
Edward,  are  against  me." 

"  My  mother  likes  you,  Mortie." 

"  Do  you  suppose  she  would  give  you  to  me  ?  " 

"  Go  and  ask  her,"  Bella  replied. 

"  Go  with  me,  then,"  said  he.     "  I  dare  not  go  alone." 

"Are  you  a  coward?"  asked  she,  laughing. 

"  I  would  rather  face  a  regiment  of  cavalry  than  ask  her 
that." 

"  Why,  Mortimer ! "  she  said,  surprised. 

"  I  cannot  help  it.  I  am  afraid  of  her.  Ask  her  for 
me." 

"  Me  ! "  asked  Bella.  "  Why,  that  is  not  the  way. 
The  gentleman  should  ask." 

"  But  I  am  poor,"  said  he.  "  I  cannot  show  her  an 
elegant  house  or  lands,  or  money  in  bank." 

"  You  can  show  yourself,  Mortie.     Come ! " 

Taking  him  by  the  hand,  she  led  him  to  her  mother's 
room,  led  him  to  the  old  lady's  side. 

"  Mother,"  she  said  simply,  "  Mortimer  wants  me  for  his 
wife." 

Mrs.  Forresst  looked  up.  She  seemed  not  much  sur 
prised,  but  only  asked,  — 

"Is  that  so,  Mortimer?" 

"That  is  just  so,  madam;  if  you  will  but  think  me 
worthy." 

Mrs.  Forresst  turned  toward  her  child. 

"Your  father  thought  kindly  of  him,  Bella.  I  shall 
respect  your  father's  wishes." 

"  Madam,"  said  Mortimer,  "I  thank  you.  I  should  have 
asked  you  long  ago,  but  that  I  feared  denial.  I  am  not 
ready  to  take  her.  I  cannot  do  by  her  as  I  would  wish. 
Will  you  keep  her  for  me  till  I  can  claim  her  by  showing 
you  a  home  of  comfort  for  her  ?  " 


OK,   THE  CEADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  67 

« 

« I  will  keep  her." 

"  And,  when  I  call,  you  will  give  her  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  give  her  to  you  now ;  and,  when  you  call  for  her, 
you  will  be  claiming  what  is  your  own.  I  "say  this  because 
some  of  my  family  may  oppose  you,  and  I  would  have  it 
distinctly  understood  that  she  is  yours.  In  giving  her  to 
you,  I  but  fulfil  my  husband's  wishes.  Though  he  is  gone, 
his  wishes  are  my  law.  It  was  his  aim  to  give  unrestricted 
freedom  to  each  child,  unless  he  saw  them  doing  what  is 
contrary  to  the  law  of  God ;  which,  I  thank  Heaven,  they 
have  never  seemed  inclined  to  do.  I  repeat  it,  then, 
Bella  is  yours.  •[  will  give  her  to  you,  and  I  will  keep  her 
safe  till  you  are  ready  for  her.  May  God  bless  you  both ! " 

Electrified  at  this  ready  consent,  they  stood  in  silence  a 
moment;  then  Mortimer  wound  his  arm  about  the  girl,  and, 
standing  erect,  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  with  clear  voice 
said,  "  Mine  by  your  mother's  gift,  and  by  the  pleasure  of 
our  G<fd, — mine  forever." 

"Even  so,"  responded  Mrs.  Eorresst,  standing  before 
them.  She  placed  her  right  hand  on  the  black  tresses  of 
the  blushing  girl,  her  left  hand  on  his  broad  shoulder,  and 
enunciated  clearly,  "  By  the  consent  of  the  father,  now  si 
lent  in  the  grave,  by  my  own  consent,  who  soon  will  lie  by 
the  departed,  and  by  the  grace  of  God,  who  ordained  that 
men  and  women  should  love  each  other,  I  betroth  you  till 
such  time  as  you  can  wed  by  public  law,  by  a  minister  of 
God." 

"  It  is  almost  like  a  marriage,"  said  Mortimer.  He  was 
deeply  impressed.  It  seemed  as  though  his  highest  wishes 
had  been  sanctified,  and  that,  from  an  unseen  presence, 
a  blessing  had  fallen  upon  them. 

"  Madam,"  he  said  with  a  trembling  voice,  "  I  am  over 
whelmed.  Allow  me  to  sit  with  my  bride  for  a  little  time." 

"  Go,"  said  Mrs.  Forresst.  "  Go,  Bella.  The  parlor  is 
vacant." 


58  BELLA  ; 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,"  said  Bella,  "  we  will  come  back 
to  you  by  and  by." 

"  Not  to-night,  my  children,  not  to-night.  I  am  weary 
now.  Kiss  me,  and  go." 

They  bent  their  heads  and  kissed  her  forehead,  and  then 
went  out  together.  The  mother  heard  them  open  the  par 
lor-door,  then  she  went  up  stairs. 

Nellie  was  alone  in  her  chamber.  She  was  thinking  of 
the  subject  that  was  engrossing  her  mother,  though  all  un 
conscious  of  the  drama  that  was  passing  below.  She  was 
thinking  that  Mortimer's  visits  were  quite  too  frequent. 
She  was  thinking  that  he  was  too  often«with  Bella,  that 
the  consequences  would  be  serious ;  and,  though  he  was 
"called  Capt.  Beale,  he  was  really  only  Mortimer  Beale 
grown  up."  She  thought  that  she  must  speak  to  Frederic, 
and  they  must  take  Bella  somewhere.  As  she  was  ponder 
ing,  her  mother  entered  the  room. 

Mrs.  Forresst  looked  weary.  She  was  slightly  overcome, 
and  yet  she  was  not  sorry.  She  felt  that  she  was  but  carry 
ing  out  the  wishes  of  her  departed  husband.  She  placed 
her  lamp  on  the  table ;  and,  going  up  to  Nellie,  she  said, 
"  I  have  given  Bella  away." 

"  Mother,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  have  given  Bella  away.     She  is  mine  no  longer." 

"  To  that  Mortimer  ?  " 

"  I  have  given  her  to  Mortimer." 

"  Mother,  how  could  you  ?     Are  they  down  stairs  now  ?  " 

"  They  are  in  the  parlor." 

Miss  Nellie  arose. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  the  mother. 

"  To  the  parlor." 

"Nellie,  if  you  go  there,  you  will  disturb  that  which 
God  has  sanctioned.  In  accordance  with  your  father's 
wishes,  I  have  given  her  to  Mortimer." 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  59 

For  a  moment  the  young  lady  hesitated.  The  sacredness 
of  her  father's  name  arrested  her,  but  served  only  to  moder 
ate  her  wrath.  She  was  about  to  turn  the  daring  young 
man  from  the  house ;  but  her  father's  name  had  checked 
that  thought.  She  went  quietly,  and,  entering  the  parlor, 
seated  herself  by  the  table,  took  up  a  book,  and  proceeded, 
apparently,  to  read.  What  was  there  for  the  young  lovers 
but  a  few  commonplace  remarks  ?  Indignation  filled  Mor 
timer's  soul.  Had  she  been  a  man,  he  would  have  spurned 
her  from  his  presence ;  but  her  sex  protected  her.  He 
choked  and  bore  it ;  and  at  last,  with  a  slight  common 
place  parting,  he  arose  and  left  the  house.  Then  Miss 
Nellie  complacently  returned  up  stairs.  Bella  went  to  her 
mother  with  an  indignant  tale. 


60  BELLA 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

ISS  NELLIE  went  to  her  bed,  but  not  to  sleep: 
she  lay  on  her  pillow  in  all  her  pride,  —  the  pride 
that  would  not  leave  her  even  in  the  hush  of 
repose. 

"  I  must  do  something  decisive,"  she  said  to  her 
self.  "  That  fellow  is  so  insinuating,  he  just  moulds  every 
body  in  his  own  way.  I  must  write  to  Frederic :  I  can 
depend  upon  him." 

When  morning  came,  Nellie  arose  and  wrote  another 
letter  to  her  brother  Frederic.  The  sly  Adelaide  carried  it 
to  the  post-office.  Nellie  never  did  her  own  errands  :  such 
offices  were  quite  beneath  her ;  and  Adelaide  was  but  a 
ready  messenger.  What  mattered  who  carried  the  message  ? 
It  was  the  letter  itself  that  did  the  harm.  It  was  an 
effective  document,  and  did  its  work.  Two  days  there 
after,  there  appeared  in  the  doorway  of  Mrs.  Forresst  a 
heavy  "  swell." 

To  appreciate  Mr.  Frederic  Forresst,  one  needs  to  see 
him.  Description  of  him  runs  thus :  He  entered  his 
mother's  house  with  an  air  that  said  plainly,  "  You  are 
very  much  honored  by  my  presence."  He  swung  back  his 
circular  cloak,  tossed  it  gracefully  from  his  shoulders,  hung 
it  upon  the  hooks  at  the  rear  of  the  hall,  and  hung  his 
glistening  beaver  beside  it.  He  placed  his  ivory  stick 
beneath  them.  He  missed  the  hall-mirror  to  which  his 
later  habits  accustomed  him ;  and,  arranging  his  polished 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  61 

locks  by  the  mirror  of  imagination,  he  bowed  his  way  into 
the  family-sitting-room. 

Exceedingly  polite  and  bland  he  was,  a  finished  courtier 
in  every  respect.  He  paid  his  respects  to  his  mother, 
then  to  his  sisters,  and  then  went  into  formal  rejoicings 
over  Edward's  improved  condition.  The  noontide  dinner 
was  served  ere  he  broached  the  object  of  his  visit.  He 
began  by  remarking,  "  You  have  been  an  excellent  nurse, 
Sister  Bella.  Edward  is  quite  recuperated.  And  I  see  the 
advantages  of  your  brief  scholastic  term  have  not  been  lost 
upon  you.  I  propose  now  to  take  you  with  me  to  Boston. 
Those  ringlets  are  quite  too  beautiful  to  be  kept  in  seclu 
sion." 

"  Not  to-day,  Frederic  ?  "  asked  Bella,  looking  up  with  a 
frightened  air. 

"  And  why  not  to-day  ?  "  he  returned.  "  I  am  here,  and 
cannot  come  again.  Edward  will  be  down  there  himself 
very  soon.  I  will  find  business  there  for  him." 

That  decided  the  question.  Bella  would  go  if  Edward 
would.  And  another  secret  thought  came  to  her, — Edward 
could  find  business  for  Mortimer.  Yes,  she  would  go. 

Her  manners  were  softened  and  refined  by  her  pupilage, 
and  it  proved  as  Frederic  predicted.  She  became  quite  a 
favorite  in  the  circle  to  which  he  introduced  her,  and  that 
circle  was  by  no  means  of  the  lowest.  He  also  fulfilled  his 
promise  to  Edward,  and  found  him  employment.  Then 
came  the  last  act  on  the  programme.  Edward  found  em 
ployment  for  Mortimer,  and  Mortimer  came ;  and,  as  a 
natural  consequence,  he  and  Bella  met ;  and  Mr.  Frederic 
himself  saw  them  walking  together  on  Washington  Street 

Then  Mr.  Frederic  Forresst  flushed.     All  within  himself 

the  tempest  was;  but  it  was  none  the  less  violent  by  being 

pent.     The  ivory-headed  cane  writhed  about  like  a  spiral 

cord  as  he  twirled  it  in  his  gloved  fingers ;  and  his  mustache, 

6 


62  BELLA  ; 

which,  in  repose,  rested  square  across  his  cheeks,  and  termi 
nated  in  the  finest  of  waxed  ends,  went  at  angles  now, 
until  it  stopped  with  both  points  turning  heavenward. 
That  indicated  that  Mr.  Frederic  Forresst  had  arrived  at  a 
decision  in  which  temper  had  played  an  important  part. 
He  walked  on  with  the  ends  upward,  until  he  reached  home; 
then  the  mustache  went  down.  He  had  a  part  to  play,  and 
he  was  a  thorough  actor.  When  Bella  came  in,  he  was  the 
blandest,  most  cordial  of  brothers.  She  thought  he  was 
never  so  agreeable,  and  heartily  wished  he  would  always 
wear  his  agreeableness,  "  it  was  so  becoming." 

The  next  morning  he  was  even  affectionate  ;  invited 
Bella  to  an  excursion  with  him,  in  which,  he  remarked, 
he  would  show  her  some  new  features  of  the  world ;  and 
was,  altogether,  the  most  tender  of  brothers.  He  had  a 
"  little  business  out  of  town,"  he  said,  and  her  company 
would  make  the  journey  "  more  agreeable." 

She  knew  that  he  often  made  business  tours,  and  she 
accepted  this  invitation  at  once. 

"  How  long  shall  we  be  gone  ?  What  shall  I  need  to 
carry  for  dress  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  tell,"  he  responded.  "  You  had  bet 
ter  put  up  quite  an  extensive  wardrobe." 

They  started  one  sunshiny  morning ;  and  she  was  radiant 
with  happiness,  like  all  young  people  when  going  out  to  see 
the  world.  She  had  money,  dress,  and  all  that  she  needed 
for  comfort ;  and  she  thought  Frederic  extremely  kind  to 
take  her  with  him. 

And  he  thought  —  We  will  not  try  to  tell  his  thoughts, 
but  judge  them  by  his  acts.  They  went  by  rail  first,  then 
by  stage,  and  finished  their  journey  by  stopping  among  the 
Shakers. 


OR,  THE  CEADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  63 


CHAPTER   IX. 

and  darkness  !  From  the  noon  of  day  to 
midnight;  from  the  warm  sunshine  of  love  to  the 
depths  of  arctic  frigidity. 

Thus  it  seemed  to  Bella.  Her  brother  was  gone. 
She  was  left,  without  money  in  her  pocket,  in  a 
strange  place.  She  felt  powerless.  Mr.  Frederic  had  agreed 
with  the  Shaker  family  for  her  board,  and  she  had  plenty  of 
clothes.  "What  more  does  she  need?"  was  his  soliloquy. 
"  If  she  has  money,  she  will  use  it  to  come  back ;  and  I 
cannot  trust  her  here  while  Beale  is  here." 

In  her  chamber  Bella  wept  continually.  She  tried  to 
erase  the  traces  of  tears  when  she  appeared  in  the  family ; 
but  the  eldresses  could  see  that  she  was  in  distress.  They 
coaxed  her,  they  flattered,  they  brought  her  dainties  to  eat; 
but  still,  when  she  was  alone,  she  wept,  and  the  eldresses 
knew  it.  They  were  sorry  for  her.  They  said,  "  The  cruel 
world  has  touched  her  hard.  There  is  no  safety  in  it.  It 
is  a  blessing  that  she  has  come  among  us.  We  will  help 
her  forget  her  troubles." 

Then  these  quiet,  industrious  women  tried,  in  their  way, 
to  make  her  happy :  they  let  her  go  about,  and  took  her  into 
their  clean,  airy  kitchen,  and  among  their  various  indus 
tries.  She  flitted  out  and  in,  and  wandered  about  the 
grounds ;  she  saw  the  buildings,  and  the  men  quietly  at 
work,  and  they  saw  her.  The  staid  old  men  shut  their 
holy  eyes,  and  the  women  pitied  her. 


64  BELLA ; 

* 

Unconscious  of  the  sensations  she  produced,  she  contin 
ued  to  wander,  as  if  in  that  ajone  lay  her  relief.  In  a  few 
days  she  knew  every  nook  on  the  premises. 

Not  far  away,  among  the  buildings  of  the  Shaker  villa, 
was  a  carpenter's  shop  ;  and  within  it  was  the  sound  of  a 
plane.  It  seemed  to  be  moving  briskly,  and  gave  the  still 
air  cheerful  vibrations.  She  looked  toward  the  shop.  "  Who 
is  in  there  ?  "  her  curiosity  asked ;  and  she  went  on  till  she 
reached  the  door.  Then,  looking  in,  she  saw  a  bench  with 
a  board  on  it,  and  a  young  man  was  pushing  a  plane  length 
wise  on  the  board.  He  was  unlike  the  other  men  she  had 
seen.  His  brow  was  open  and  high :  the  thick  hair,  cluster 
ing  upward,  and  thrown  backward,  covered  his  head  in  raven 
masses.  He  was  trim  and  straight  in  form ;  and,  as  he 
looked  up  at  her  entrance,  she  saw  his  eyes  of  intense 
blackness. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  he  asked  by  way  of  greeting. 

Feeling  embarrassed,  she  scarce  knew  how  to  reply ;  and, 
ignoring  the  question,  she  said  simply,  "May  I  come  in ? " 

"  If  you  would  like  to,"  he  answered. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Can't  you  see  ?  "  he  replied,  shoving  his  plane. 

"  Do  you  belong  here  ?  "  was  her  next  question. 

"  I  don't  belong  anywhere  else." 

The  answer  pleased  her.  It  seemed  like  the  world  from 
which  she  had  come.  Before  she  could  speak,  she  found 
herself  the  questioned. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Bella  Forresst." 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"Boston,  last." 

"  What  are  you  here  for  ?  " 

"  To  keep  me  on  my  good  behavior,  I  believe." 

"  I  thought  as  much." 


OK,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  65 

This  dry  answer  was  accompanied  by  an  uplifting  of  the 
eyebrows  and  a  sparkle  of  the  eyes  that  showed  a  keen 
sense  of  the  situation  ;  and  Bella  recognized  a  spirit  kindred 
to  her  own.  She  seemed  to  have  known  this  stranger  all 
her  life ;  and  she  addressed  him  as  he  had  her. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"Elijah  Cressy." 

The  name  came  through  his  teeth  as  if  forced ;  and  he 
added,  "It  is  not  so  fine  a  name  as  yours;  but  no  matter: 
pretty  is  that  pretty  does." 

Bella  laughed  a  rippling  laugh  that  restored  the  young 
man's  feelings  ;  and  he  asked,  "Are  you  going  to  join  the 
community  ?  " 

"  Would  you  advise  me  to  ?  " 

"No." 

"  What  do  you  stay  here  for  ?  " 

"  Well,  Miss  Forresst,  you  see "  —  At  that  moment, 
bounding  heels  over  head,  an  object  came  in  at  the  door. 
Bella  started  ;  but  Elijah  appeared  unconcerned.  The  ob 
ject  proved  to  be  a  boy ;  and,  as  he  stood  upright,  he  seemed 
the  most  startled  of  the  three. 

"Jack,"  said  the  carpenter,  "this  is  Miss  Forresst,  a  friend 
of  mine  from  Boston :  I  wish  you  would  stand  at  the  door." 

As  he  spoke,  he  gave  Jack  a  wink ;  and  the  boy  went  in 
to  position  at  once.  Straight  in  the  doofway  he  stood ;  and, 
while  he  did  not  forget  to  look  within,  he  rolled  his  eyes 
outward  in  keen  glances.  No  elder  could  come  unseen. 

Then  Elijah  and  Bella  talked  a  little,  as  congenial  spir 
its  on  the  enemy's  ground,  and  both  disposed  to  fight  their 
own  way. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  longer  than  I  can  here,"  said  Elijah. 
"Eldress  Nancy  will  do  almost  any  thing  to  please  you. 
Every  night,  at  half-past  nine,  somebody  locks  the  great 
outer  doors  of  both  sides  of  the  house  ;  and  the  whole  house 


C6  BELLA  ; 

is  stilled.  You  can  ask  Eldress  Nancy  to  let  you  lock  them 
on  your  side,  and  I  will  ask  leave  on  mine.  When  we  get 
to  the  middle  door,  we  will  slip  out  and  take  a  walk  togeth 
er.  It  is  the  only  way  we  can  talk  alone." 

She  looked  in  his  eyes  as  if  searching  for  truth,  and  then 
said,  "  I  will." 

That  night,  as  the  stars  were  shining,  the  two  moved 
stealthily  from  the  great  doors,  and  wandered  away  beneath 
the  spangled  heavens.  When  they  were  away,  they  began 
to  talk.  Elijah  told  her  his  history,  —  how  from  child 
hood  he  had  been  an  orphan,  and  had  no  other  home  but 
this;  how  he  had  often  marvelled  about  the  world,  and 
whether  he  could  live  there  as  other  people  lived,  earning 
his  own  way;  and  why  he  could  not  have  somebody  all 
his  own  to  love ;  and  how  he  had  sometimes  thought  he 
would  run  away,  but  then  he  knew  no  place,  nor  had  any 
friends. 

Then  Bella  told  him  her  story  ;  and  he  asked  many  ques- 

'  tions  about  Mortimer,  —  his  principles,  and  how  he  looked, 

adding  at  last,  "  You  needn't  be  troubled  about  him,  Miss 

Bella:  you  have  only  to  write  to  him,  and  he'll   make   it 

straight  for  you,  —  at  least  I  would,  if  I  was  in  his  place." 

"  I  have  written  to-day,"  was  Bella's  response  ;  "  and  to 
morrow  I  shall  send  it  to  the  office  by  Elder  Jonathan." 

"  He  won't  carry  it,"  Elijah  replied. 

"  Why  ?     Am  I  in  another  convent  ?  " 

"No;  but  then  you  know  they  like  to  persuade  young 
people  to  stay  here  ;  and,  besides,  it  is  a  wicked  thing  to  go 
back  to  the  world.  They  would  grieve  for  you." 

Bella  laughed.  The  idea  seemed  to  her  absurdity.  But 
Elijah  did  not  laugh.  He  had  been  under  those  doctrines 
too  long  to  laugh  at  them.  He  only  felt  their  weight ;  and 
he  responded  seriously,  — 

"  I  will  mail  your  letter  for  you.  Elder  Jonathan,  though 
an  old  man,  may  like  you  too  well.  Do  not  trust  him." 


OE,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  67 

"And  how  do  I  know  I  can  trust  you?  You  may  like 
me  too  well.  You  may  want  to  keep  me." 

He  jerked  away  his  arm,  and  her  hand'  fell.  He  stood 
straight  before  her  :  his  eyes  gleamed,  and  his  hair  shook  as 
in  anger. 

"  Miss  Bella,  do  you  take  me  for  an  idiot  ?  Don't  I 
know  that  you  are.  a  refined  young  lady,  and  I  an  ignorant 
young  man  ?  Why  should  I  seek  to  keep  you  or  hetray 
your  trust  ?  " 

Bella  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "Pardon  me,  Elijah! 
I  have  seen  so  much  trouble,  I  hardly  know  whom  to  trust. 
I  will  give  you  the  letter  to-morrow,  and  thank  you  ten 
times  over  if  you  will  see  that  it  goes." 

It  was  thus  that  Bella  gained  a  friend;  and  a  correspond 
ence  opened  that  led  to  wide  results.  Elijah  did  not  turn 
himself  into  a  mail-carrier,  but  he  made  Jack  his  messen 
ger;  and  the  boy  skipped  like  a  monkey  at  the  joke  he  felt 
these  letters  were  perpetrating.  Jack  was  born  for  fun  ;  but 
he  found  little  of  it  in  this  staid  life,  and  to  carry  sly  let 
ters  for  a  handsome  young  lady  like  Miss  Bella  was  to  him 
a  continual  feast. 

Time  passed  on,  and  an  event  of  interest  to  them  was  to 
occur  in  the  Shaker  family.  A  gentle  girl  had  been  persuad 
ed  to  adopt  the  costume  of  the  sect,  and  become  one 
of  the  sanctified.  The  elders  and  eldresses  rejoiced  in 
her  conversion,  and  bent  their  energies  towards  bringing 
Bella  to  the  same  ideas.  Eldress  Nancy  and  all  the  others 
tried  their  persuasive  methods  of  arguing,  but  with  no  ef 
fect.  She  listened  respectfully ;  but  her  nature  had  no  af 
finity  with  their  doctrines.  She  grew  weary  of  their  teas 
ing,  and  wrote  notes  to  Elijah,  instead  of  accepting  their 
invitations.  In  his  replies  he  confessed  that  he  felt  like 
"less  than  a  man  "  to  allow  the  tender  Emily  thus  to  sac 
rifice  her  natural  hopes  and  loves,  and  take  upon  herself 


68  BELLA  ; 

these  unnatural  vows.  To  these  expressions  Bella  replied 
boldly,  "  Why  do  you  not  take  her  out  to  the  world,  and  be 
married  like  other  people  ?  " 

"  Where  can  I  carry  her,  and  what  shall  I  do  with  her  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  I  should  be  lost  in  the  world  myself.  How, 
then,  can  I  enter  it  with  a  tender  woman  under  my  care?" 

Meantime  the  eldresses  continued  their  importunities. 
They  made  an  entire  conventual  suit  for  Emily,  every  seam 
and  fold  of  which  was  in  the  most  approved  manner  of  their 
sect.  Bella  looked  at  it  and  then  at  the  women  whose  gar 
ments  were  the  same  ;  and  she  thought,  "  Never,  never,  will 
I  wear  such  a  dress." 

Seeing  their  own  failure  in  persuasion,  the  eldresses  sent 
for  Elder  Jonathan.  He  was  an  oracle  in  their  eyes  ;  and 
they  thought  he  surely  could  influence  her.  He  came  and 
stood  before  her.  He  described  the  glories  of  the  sanctified, 
and  depicted  the  horrors  of  the  world.  He  told  her  of  their 
safe  home,  and  of  the  dangers  of  a  tempting  world ;  and,  as 
he  delivered  his  discourse,  she  restrained  herself  by  the 
rules  of  politeness,  but  within  she  was  full  of  merriment. 
His  tall,  thin  form,  his  grave,  elongated  visage,  and  his  con 
ventual  garments  hanging  closely  on  him,  made  him  ludi 
crous  in  her  eyes ;  but  when  he  came  day  after  day  preach 
ing  the  same  words,  she  grew  weary  of  hearing  it,  and 
began  to  fancy  that  he  came  to  please  only  himself,  and  a 
great  aversion  to  him  seized  her  mind.  This,  also,  she 
communicated  to  Elijah,  who  sent  her  a  note  in  reply,  and 
accompanying  the  note  was  a  letter  from  Edward  and  Mor 
timer.  This  letter  created  new  hope  in  her.  They  wrote 
of  their  plans,  — how  they  were  going  West  where  lands  were 
cheap,  were  going  to  start  homes  for  themselves,  and  how 
Edward  had  found  Kate,  — Miss  Kate  Ward,  —  and  when 
their  homes  were  ready,  they  were  coining  back  for  their 
brides.  "  Do  not  fear,"  said  Mortimer  :  "  we  shall  come  out 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OP  LIBERTY.  69 

right  yet."     And  Edward  added,  "  You  will  like  Kate  for  a 
sister,  I  am  sure." 

She  told  this  to  Elijah,  and  he  was  moody.  He  said,  "In 
the  world,  young  men  have  loves  and  do  as  they  please.  Is 
there  nothing  for  me  ?  " 

Bella  answered,  "Leave  this  place,  Elijah!  Take  Emily 
and  go.  I  will  help  you." 

Elijah  could  not  see  how  she  could  help  him ;  but  the 
courageous  cheerfulness  of  her  manner  inspired  him.  He 
said,  u  Maybe  there  is  some  good  in  store  for  me."  Then 
he  returned  to  his  shop,  and  she  went  to  her  room.  Eldress 
Nancy  and  Elder  Jonathan  renewed  their  arguments  and 
persuasions ;  but  she  was  firm.  Still  they  did  not  cease  en 
treating;  and  on  the  morning  of  the  consecrated  sabbath, 
when  Eldress  Nancy  carried  a  new  suit  to  Emily,  she  also 
left  one  in  Bella's  room.  Bella  looked  at  its  plain,  sober 
fashion.  "  Wear  it ! "  she  said  in  her  heart  :  "  never  !  Mor 
timer  is  coming  to-day :  I  will  wear  a  dress  befitting  him." 

She  closed  the  door  of  her  room,  and  opened  her  trunk.  A 
delicate  perfume  arose  as  she  took  out  such  articles  as  pleased 
her.  She  spread  them  out,  and  proceeded  to  dress,  while 
Emily,  in  her  room,  was  arrayed  by  Eldress  Nancy.  The 
time  came  for  service.  The  family  met  in  the  consecrated 
room.  Emily  sat  in  her  place,  attired  for  her  novitiate,  her 
mild  young  face  reflecting  its  own  light.  All  the  family  sat 
in  silence.  All  were  there  but  Bella. 

Presently  along  the  passage  soft  steps  were  heard,  and 
there  was  a  rustle  of  floating  drapery,  —  not  such  drapery  as 
the  eldresses  wear,  but  rustling  drapery,  such  as  the  world 
has.  The  sound  was  strange  in  that  place.  Every  eye 
turned  towards  the  passage  ;  and  there,  upon  the  threshold, 
appeared  a  vision  of  wondrous  beauty.  Amazement  trans 
fixed  every  face.  The  eldresses  seemed  stricken  with  hor 
ror.  The  elders  were  like  dazzled  men.  Elijah  was  petri 
fied.  Jack  longed  to  jump,  and  cry  "  Hurrah  ! " 


70  BELLA  ; 

Bella  walked  slowly  in.  Adown  from  her  head  flowed 
her  dark  ringlets,  a  dress  of  pure  white  muslin  floated 
back  in  airy  fulness,  frills  of  deep  lace  hung  over  her  bare 
arms,  a  fan  was  in  her  hand,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  with 
brilliant  light.  Before  the  scandalized  family  could  regain 
their  usual  serenity,  steps  were  heard  outside,  —  heavy 
steps  they  were,  full  of  manliness  and  vigor ;  and  when 
they  entered  the  room,  there  came  from  out  that  gossamer 
a  little  cry,  "  0  Mortimer  and  Edward  !  " 

To  explain  what  followed  would  be  of  itself  a  little 
history.  Afterward  they  were  alone  together.  They  told 
her  more  fully  of  their  plans;  and  she  told  them  of  Elijah's 
kindness,  of  Emily,  and  Jack. 

"We  ought  to  reward  Elijah,"  they  remarked. 

Then  she  told  them  the  best  reward  would  be  to  take 
him  and  Emily  away,  and  let  them  be  like  other  people  ; 
and,  when  they  had  considered  her  proposal,  they  agreed 
to  it,  except  in  one  particular.  She  wanted  to  stay  to  help 
Elijah  and  Emily  secretly.  Edward  said,  "  No,  Bella. 
Do  not  stay  in  this  place.  Go  back  with  us  to  mother." 
She  replied,  "No.  Let  me  stay,  to  encourage  and  assist 
Emily:  she  will  think  she  is  breaking  vows.  Let  me 
stay,  and  show  her  why  she  has  a  right  to  break  them. 
Leave  money  with  me,  and  I  can  get  home  by  myself." 

Three  weeks  after  this,  when  the  young  men  entered 
the  Western-bound  train  in  Boston,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Elijah 
Cressy  were  with  them.  Jack  was  there  also.  With  a 
boy's  alertness  he  had  discovered  the  secret,  and  with  a 
boy's  urgency  had  pressed  his  claims.  He  followed  the 
party  into  the  car,  pushed  into  a  seat  close  by,  and,  look 
ing  about  him,  exclaimed,  "Oh,  my!  ain't  Miss  Bella  a 
sharp  one,  to  do  all  this  for  us,  and  they  not  find  out  ? 
Ain't  it  fun  ?  " 

But  the  family  of   sober  people  were  sadly  aggrieved. 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  71 

They  wrote  to  Mr.  Frederic  Forresst,  and  bitterly  com 
plained  of  Bella. 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  said  he,  "  if  she  is  fond  of  playing 
tricks  and  of  associating  with  carpenters  and  boys,  I  can 
put  her  where  she  will  have  plenty  of  such  company." 

Ere  she  had  time  to  execute  her  plan  for  leaving  her 
post,  like  a  captain  who  had  stood  by  the  ship  till  all  were 
saved,  Mr.  Frederic  Forresst  was  on  the  scene ;  and  sudden 
ly  she  was  transported.  She  scarce  realized  his  orders,  or 
knew  what  he  meant,  but  obeyed,  as  by  compulsion ;  and 
he  took  her  as  by  right  far  away  to  a  new  scene.  He 
felt  she  must  be  punished.  He  went  to  a  well-looking 
house  in  the  secluded  village  of  Sheardown.  By  his  side 
was  the  young  sister  whom  he  was  determined  to  subdue 
to  his  wishes,  or  chastise  according  to  his  own  ideas.  He 
drew  the  bell-knob;  and  it  was  opened  by  a  plainly-dressed, 
but  good-looking  woman,  who  responded  to  Mr.  Forresst's 
inquiry  by  saying,  "/am  Mrs.  Babbette." 

Mrs.  Babbette  was  the  teacher  of  a  school  in  her  own 
house  ;  and  Mr.  Forresst  had  opened  a  correspondence  with 
her.  She  immediately  invited  him  into  her  parlor,  glan 
cing  at  Bella  as  she  followed  her  brother.  When  the  three 
were  seated,  Mrs.  Babbette  again  cast  searching  glances  at 
Bella,  causing  the  girl  to  feel  queerly  under  this  unnatural 
scrutiny.  At  length  Mrs.  Babbette  asked,  "  Is  this  young 
lady  the  pupil  you  mentioned  in  your  letter  ?  " 

"  The  same,  madam." 

Mrs.  Babbette  gave  the  girl  another  searching  glance, 
and  said,  "  Are  you  aware,  sir,  of  the  nature  of  my  school  ? 
Do  you  know  that  it  is  for  idiots  and  deformed  children, 
such  as  would  not  be  suitable  for  the  larger,  more  pro 
gressive  schools  ?  " 

"  I  am  quite  aware,  madam.  Do  you  recollect  what  I 
wrote  you.?" 


72  BELLA  ; 

Mrs.  Babbette  did  recollect ;  but  she  only  bowed  assent. 
She  recollected  that  Mr.  Forresst  had  written  that  his  sister 
had  a  perversity  of  character ;  and  she  wondered  at  the 
time  how  great  or  of  what  nature  that  perversity  might 
be.  And  now,  as  she  looked  at  this  beautiful  maiden,  she 
marvelled  still  more,  and  was  certain  there  must  be  some 
mistake.  But  it  was  too  late  now  to  rectify  it ;  for  with  a 
sweep  and  a  bow  that  were  gracefully  and  magnificently 
appalling,  Mr.  Frederic  Forresst  arose,  bowed  himself  out : 
and  the  last  impression  that  rested  on  Mrs.  Babbette's 
mind  was  that  of  two  pointed  mustache  ends  resting 
squarely  across  her  doorway  in  an  obstinate,  haughty  man 
ner,  that  said,  "  I  am  here.  I  am  going ;  for  you  two 
obedience  is  the  only  requisite,  /am  ruler." 

He  disappeared.  Mrs.  Babbette  turned  to  her  pupil. 
Bella  still  sat  with  her  hat  resting  lightly  above  her  dark, 
flowing  curls.  Her  lips  were  full  and  ripe,  her  form  de 
veloped  as  only  health  can  develop  a  frame,  and  her  chest 
was  heaving  as  only  strong  emotion  checked  by  a  stronger 
will  can  cause  the  breast  to  heave.  Mrs.  Babbette  was 
touched.  Her  kindly  nature  felt,  and  her  sagacity  told  her, 
that  something  was  wrong ;  and,  going  to  Bella,  she  laid 
her  hand  on  the  dark  curls.  "My  dear,  there  is  some 
strange  mistake.  Do  not  feel  bad,  but  trust  in  me,  and  I 
will  know  how  to  help  you.  I  shall  not  take  you  into 
my  school  as  a  pupil ;  for  I  am  sure  you  could  better  teach 
me  than  I  you.  Come  with  me  now,  and  see  my  school 
as  a  visitor." 

Before  morning  Mrs.  Babbette  had  drawn  from  Bella  the 
story  of  her  life  ;  and  the  next  day,  taking  counsel  from 
her  own  heart,  she  wrote  two  letters.  One,  directed  to  Mr. 
Frederic  Forresst,  contained  her  reasons  for  the  course  she 
was  taking,  and  was  very  explicit.  The  other  was  sent 
to  Bella's  mother ;  and  Bella  was  the  bearer.  On  her  own 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  73 

responsibility  Mrs.  Babbette  sent  her  where  she  felt  it 
was  her  proper  place  to  be,  —  to  the  mother  who  loved  her 
as  no  other  could  love. 

When  Mr.  Frederic  read  his  letter,  his  upper  lip 
twitched ;  and  the  mustache  described  forty-five  degrees  of  a 
circle.  But  he  was  powerless  :  the  strength  of  a  conscien 
tious  woman  had  been  his  conqueror.  Before  he  could 
answer  that  letter,  Bella  was  in  her  mother's  arms,  telling 
the  tale  of  her  sorrows  and  of  Mrs.  Babbette's  kind  act. 
7 


74  BELLA  ; 


CHAPTER  X. 

CLEAR-MINDED  woman  had  given  Mr.  Frederic 
Forresst  a  strong  pill  of  truth  ;  and  he  swallowed  it 
~J~J\,  as  a  sick  child  gulps  down  a  dose  from  the  hands 
of  a  straightforward  nurse.  He  considered  now 
that  Edward  and  Mortimer,  the  refractory  boys, 
being  gone,  there  was  no  present  danger,  and  permitted 
Bella  to  remain  at  home.  Adelaide  was  about  to  marry  to 
the  taste  of  the  family,  and  in  accordance  with  its  pride ; 
and  Bella's  deft  needle  was  both  necessary  and  useful. 

Then  came  other  changes,  as  they  often  come  to  our 
American  families  when  the  children  marry  one  by  one,  and 
the  old  homestead  grows  deserted.  It  was  Nellie  who 
planned  and  pressed  forward  the  final  change.  Nellie,  the 
last  of  the  elder  girls,  had  resolved  to  make  for  herself  a 
splendid  match ;  'and,  as  preliminary,  she  must  go  where 
superb  men  were  to  be  found.  According  to  her  ideas,  a 
superb  man  lived  in  an  elegant  house,  kept  a  carriage,  wore 
kid-gloves,  and  dined  in  fashionable  style.  In  seeking  an 
elegant  alliance,  Miss  Nellie  found  Mr.  Frederic  a  ready 
helper.  They  carried  their  point,  persuaded  the  mother, 
who  felt  that  she  was  now  but  a  withered  branch,  and  sold 
the  old  house  with  all  its  associations.  Then  they  took  a 
house  in  Boston,  —  a  high,  narrow  house,  on  a  street  near 
Mrs.  Boynton,  the  oldest  daughter  of  the  Forresst  family, 
now  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  banker. 

Bella  did  not  feel  at  home  in  this  new  house,  and  would 


OE,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBEnfY.  75 

have  cried  a  little  for  the  old  homestead  but  for  the  thoughts 
of  the  Western  home  whither  her  young  hopes  trended. 
Mrs.  Forresst  did  weep.  The  ancestral  spirit  flamed  up 
brightly  in  this  old  woman.  She  was  proud  of  her  home 
in  which  her  married  life  had  been  spent,  and  loved  it  as  it 
was.  Her  heart  seemed  tearing  as  she  pulled  herself  away 
from  the  long-trodden  floors  to  try  her  feet  in  new  places. 
But  Frederic  said,  "Upon  my  honor,  mother,  the  house  is 
but  an  old,  cracked  shell,  and  wouldn't  pay  for  keeping  it 
in  repair." 

Only  one  member  of  the  family  deserted  home  on  account 
of  this  arrangement,  and  that  was  Harry.  He  could  not 
be  hedged  by  the  conventional  rules  of  a  city,  nor  bring  his 
life  and  habits  to  the  precincts  of  narrow  streets.  Therefore 
he  went  away  to  the  Aroostook  country,  where  the  wood 
men  felled  the  heavy  timber. 

Only  Bella,  the  mother,  and  Miss  Nellie  began  house 
keeping  in  the  new  style ;  and,  but  for  the  latter,  Bridget 
would  have  had  an  easy  time.  But  Nellie  had  an  object  in 
view;  and  she  gained  it.  She  won  Dr.  Bergmann,  a  Ger 
man  physician  from  Brooklyn,  who  had  come  to  Boston  for 
scientific  purposes,  and  found  himself  caught  in  the  meshes 
of  a  softer  science. 

Dr.  Bergmann  was  fifty  years  old,  and  had  been  married. 
But  what  of  that  ?  He  had  the  nice  establishment,  money, 
and  extensive  practice,  that  constituted  him  a  "  superb 
man."  He  was  a  learned  man,  and  moved  in  profound 
circles ;  but  he  did  not  consider  it  necessary  that  his  wife 
should  be  learned.  He  wanted  her  to  be  graceful  in  figure 
and  elegant  in  manners,  —  an  ornament  to  his  house,  at 
which  he  could  look  when  he  rested  from  deep  thoughts. 

Miss  Nellie  was  very  beautiful  on  her  bridal  day;  and, 
as  she  walked  through  the  church-aisles  with  her  orange 
blossoms  and  bridal  veil,  the  eyes  of  her  friends  followed 


76  BELLA  ; 

her  admiringly.  There  Miss  Nellie  Forresst  ended.  There 
was  no  more  of  her  in  Boston.  Afterward  there  was  a  Mrs. 
Nellie  Bergmann  in  Brooklyn,  elegantly  riding  in  her  ele 
gant  carriage.  People  said  Dr.  Bergmann  had  found  a  very 
stylish  wife. 

Bella  and  her  mother  were  left  alone  in  their  hired  house 
in  the  city.  They  were  lonely,  and  could  not  feel  con 
tented.  Bella  thought  of  her  Western  home,  where  her 
heart  had  already  gone ;  and  Mrs.  Forresst  felt  like  a 
stranger  in  her  stylish  house.  She  could  not  like  the  city : 
it  cramped  her,  and  jostled  her  old-fashioned  independence. 

Then  these  two  women  formed  a  plan  of  their  own,  — 
how  they  would  move  out  to  the  home  of  which  Edward 
had  written,  and  help  him  and  Mortimer,  instead  of  waiting 
till  the  young  men  had  struggled  up  alone.  The  old  lady 
thought  she  should  like  the  bracing  breezes.  And  Bella 
said,  "  Why  cannot  I  be  married  there  as  well  as  here  ?  " 
She  wrote  to  Edward  then,  and  told  him  they  would  freight 
out  their  furniture,  —  told  him  all  their  plans;  and  her 
hopes  were  buoyant  with  these  designs. 

We  may  be  sure  there  was  delight  in  that  newly-fledged 
home.  Jack  crowed  like  a  true  chanticleer  ;  Emily  smiled 
in  her  quiet  way ;  Elijah's  dark  eyes  beamed  with  pleasure ; 
Mortimer  felt  that  heaven  was  coming  down;  and  Edward 
wrote  to  tell  the  welcome. 

It  was  then  that  Bella's  trouble  began.  When  Edward'^ 
letter  arrived,  Bella  and  her  mother  immediately  began 
their  preparations.  They  gave  up  the  lease  of  their  house, 
wrote  to  Harry,  and  began  preparing  their  goods  for  the 
transit. 

"  Upon  my  honor  !  "  said  Mr.  Frederic  to  himself.  His 
anger  was  roused.  He  was  not  a  man  easily  foiled  by  any 
obstacle  ;  and  was  a  .young  girl  to  carry  her  will  over  his  ? 
His  handsome  face  was  set  in  lines  of  stern  defiance :  his 


OE,  THE   CEADLE  OF  LIBEETY.  77 

mustache  worked,  and  his  thoughts  worked  also.  "  Is  not 
iny  judgment  superior  to  hers  ?  How  does  she  know  what 
is  best  ?  Long  ago  I  swore  that  not  a  cent  of  my  father's 
property  should  ever  bless  Chauncey  Beale  or  his  progeny ; 
and  my  oath  is  like  a  Mede  and  Persian  law.  Why  didn't 
Chauncey  Beale  have  property  to  give  his  son  ?  I  have  no 
patience  with  these  thriftless  men." 

The  mustache  went  up,  and  the  mustache  went  down, 
one  end  at  a  time,  two  ends,  cornerwise,  horizontally,  and 
at  angles.  Then  like  a  flash  it  went  square  across,  and 
rested  there.  He  had  thought  out  his  course.  His  mind 
was  at  rest. 

That  evening,  when  the  rumbling  of  teams  was  ceasing 
in  the  streets,  and  the  lights  were  aflame  as  guides,  Mr. 
Frederic  Forresst  might  have  been  seen  turning  a  corner, 
with  his  gloved  hand  twirling  his  dapper  cane.  He  walked 
gracefully  on  a  few  blocks,  then  paused  before  a  sign,  — 
"Dr.  Games."  Mr.  Forresst  rang  the  bell.  He  was  pres 
ently  ushered  into  a  room,  where  sat  the  venerable  physi 
cian, —  a  man  said  to  be  profoundly  versed  in  mental  as  well 
as  physical  diseases.  He  arose  with  a  bow,  as  his  visitor 
entered.  Mr.  Frederic  Forresst  was  a  mftn  often  mentioned 
in  the  higher  business  circles.  Dr.  Games  knew  him,  and 
felt  honored  by  this  call.  He  gave  his  visitor  a  suave  bow. 
Mr.  Forresst  received  it  as  his  right. 

The  next  half-hour  in  that  room  would  have  been  a  study 
for  a  philosopher  in  mind.  The  way  the  gentleman  and 
the  doctor  discussed  the  science  of  metaphysics  in  general, 
and  as  applicable  to  Miss  Bella  in  particular,  should  be  put 
down  in  medical  journals  as  showing  what  can  be  said  on 
such  subjects  in  these  modern  times.  Surely  temper  had 
a  fearful  hold  upon  Mr.  Forresst,  or  he  could  not  have 
spoken  of  his  sister  as  he  did  that  evening ;  and,  with  all 
due  respect  to  Dr.  Games,  we  must  say  that  neither  his 
7 


78  BELLA  ; 

venerable  age  nor  great  learning  saved  him  from  a  mistake 
on  that  occasion.  It  was  strange,  that  without  seeing  the 
young  lady,  and  merely  by  the  representation  of  a  brother 
whose  motives  he  did  not  know,  this  respectable  physician 
should  pronounce  the  word  "insane." 

Dr.  Games  advised  Mr.  Forresst  to  take  his  sister  to  an 
asylum  for  a  time.  The  doctor  remarked  that  at  asylums 
they  have  facilities  for  restoring  aberrations  of  mind ;  that 
he  was  in  the  practice  of  sending  persons  to  these  retreats, 
and  could  recommend  them  as  efficacious.  Mr.  Forresst 
was  delighted  with  this  assurance.  It  accorded  with  his 
wishes;  and  he  should,  he  said,  "immediately  profit  by  the 
doctor's  advice." 

"But,"  continued  the  pbysician,  "the  law  requires  that 
two  medical  men  shall  visit  the  person,  and  pronounce 
judgment." 

"  And  to  whom  should  you  refer  me  ?  "  asked  the  gentle 
man. 

"  I  know  no  better  man  than  Dr.  Furbelough." 

Mr.  Forresst  bowed,  and  was  about  to  proceed  to  Dr. 
Furbelough,  when  a  sudden  thought  occurred  to  him. 
"  Would  Dr.  Games  be  so  kind  as  to  accompany  him  ?  Dr. 
Carnes.'s  advice  might  be  invaluable." 

For  a  gentleman  of  Mr.  Forresst's  type,  people  will  won 
derfully  incommode  themselves.  Almost  without  being 
aware  that  he  was  condescending  from  his  usual  habit,  Dr. 
Carnes  arose  and  prepared  for  his  walk. 

They  found  Dr.  Furbelough,  a  young  man  of  pleasing 
exterior  and  rising  fame.  He  received  them  with  a  showy 
dash  of  courtesy,  a  profusion  of  bows  and  smiles.  He 
listened  while  Dr.  Carnes  opened  the  case.  He  sighed 
sympathetically,  and  turned  to  Mr.  Forresst.  "Very  sad, 
sir.  Very  trying  for  you.  What  are  the  particular  mani 
festations,  —  violence,  or  stupidity  ?  " 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  79 

Dr.  Carnes  interposed.  "  I  am  sorry  to  say,  sir,  it  ap 
pears  to  be  perverse  obstinacy." 

"Ah,  indeed  !"  was  the  medical  response.  "Very  dif 
ficult  to  cure.  It  would  be  best  to  try  an  asylum  at  once. 
Delay  might  increase  the  disease.  My  sympathies  are  with 
you,  Mr.  Forresst.  Miss  Bella  was  a  very  fine  girl." 

Mr.  Forresst  acknowledged  this  sympathy  by  a  bow. 

"  When  shall  we  visit  the  patient  ?  " 

The  busy  mind  of  Mr.  Forresst  had  been  preparing  for 
this  question.  He  was  not  taken  unawares.  "  I  am  so 
very  busy,  gentlemen  —  Suppose  you  make  out  your  cer 
tificates  here,  without  personal  examination." 

They  glanced  at  each  other,  and  then  replied,  "  The  law 
requires  an  examination." 

"  That  is  a  very  necessary  law,"  Mr.  Forresst  observed ; 
"  but  it  is  a  law  that  cannot  adapt  itself  to  all  cases.  See 
ing  her  could  not  affect  your  decision.  You  would  find  her 
even  more  perverse  than  I  have  stated :  indeed,  I  doubt 
whether  she  would  receive  you,  or  answer  your  questions 
with  any  spirit  but  rudeness." 

"  Ah  !  Is  she  so  bad  as  that  ?  "  and  -again  they  looked 
at  each  other.  They  seemed  to  understand  each  other's 
glances ;  and  certain  mesmeric  responses  passed  between 
them  in  silent  interchange.  "  It  is  contrary  to  law,"  said 
the  eyes  of  one. 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  other ;  "  but  who  will  know  it  ?  " 

"  And  it  is  Mr.  Forresst,"  observed  the  first. 

"  Yes,  it  is  Mr.  Forresst,"  echoed  the  second ;  and  then 
they  both  glanced  at  the.  gentleman. 

11  Very  rich,"  said  one. 

"  And  popular,"  added  the  other. 

"  What's  the  use  ?  "  asked  both.  "  If  we  should  examine 
her,  we  should  doubtless  find  her  as  he  states.  Any  way, 
we  shouldn't  like  to  differ  from  him;  and  —  well  —  what 


80  BELLA  ; 

do  you  say  ?  He  is  in  haste,  and  we  shall  get  —  our  pay. 
Who'll  know  ?  " 

They  wrote  the  certificate  then,  —  the  document  that  was 
to  confine  an  innocent,  rational  girl  in  an  insane  asylum. 
They  did  it  heartlessly,  and  then  pocketed  the  fees  that  Mr. 
Forresst  drew  liberally  from  a  well-filled  pocket-book.  They 
had  earned  their  money  with  little  trouble  ;  and,  if  they 
had  any  regrets,  they  were  that  such  cases  did  not  oftener 
.occur. 

Mr.  Forresst  went  home  with  the  certificate  in  his 
pocket;  and  he  laughed  softly  between  his  set  teeth. 
"  Cleverly  done  !  I  fancy  they  would  have  met  a  rebuff  if 
they  had  paid  her  a  medical  visit.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! " 

The  next  legal  step  was  to  procure  the  signature  of  the 
judge.  This  was  easily  accomplished.  The  certificate  of 
these  physicians  was  sufficient  testimony  in  the  mind  of 
the  judicial  man.  He  might  have  inquired  into  the  cir 
cumstances,  might  have  summoned  a  jury,  and  investigated 
whether  the  certificate  was  a  fraud,  and  whether  the  per 
son  was  really  a  proper  subject  for  the  trying  ordeal  of  con 
fined  existence  ;  but  he  took  these  things  for  granted,  and 
signed  a  legal  commitment  in  which  Bella  Forresst  was  set 
forth  as  an  insane  person,  and  a  fit  subject  for  an  insane 
asylum.  Thus  her  fetters  were  riveted  by  a  judge  who  had 
never  even  seen  her.  Accused  criminals  have  a  public  trial, 
with  a  chance  for  self-defence,  ere  they  are  sent  to  prison. 
Persons  accused  of  insanity  have  no  such  opportunity,  but 
are  forced  into  asylums  without  power  to  prevent  the  incar 
ceration.  The  statute  laws  give  them  ways  for  proving  their 
sanity,  and  for  escape  if  sane ;  but  the  arts  of  physicians 
and  friends  contrive  to  elude  these  laws,  or  destroy  their 
effects;  and  statutes,  framed  to  prevent  unjust  imprison 
ments,  are  twisted  and  executed  according  to  the  caprices  of 
those  who  imprison,  till  they  become  practically  statutes 
for  life-imprisonment. 


OE,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  81 

There  is,  in  papers  of  commitment,  one  clause  that  has  a 
chance  for  the  victim  to  escape ;  but  practically  it  is  use 
less.  This  clause  was  inserted  in  this  warrant,  and  stated 
that  the  paper  of  committal  should  be  read  to  Bella  twelve 
hours  previous  to  her  removal  to  the  asylum.  Mr.  Forresst 
made  this  clause  void  by  a  short  method.  He  did  not  read 
it  to  her. 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  he  mused,  "  what  would  be  the 
effect  of  giving  her  twelve  hours'  notice  ?  She  would  use 
the  time  in  disappearing,  unless  I  place  a  guard  over  her, 
which  is  too  much  trouble.  And  who  will  know  whether  I 
follow  the  law  ?  In  these  cases  we  must  be  a  law  unto  our 
selves." 

Then  he  went  to  his  sister,  Mrs.  Boynton,  and  informed 
her  of  these  arrangements. 

"Surely,"  she  said,  "you  do  not  mean  to  send  Bella 
to  an  insane  asylum  ?  What  a  disgrace  ! " 

"  Upon  my  honor,  Eunice  !  which  is  the  greater  dis 
grace,  that,  or  a  squatter's  cabin  ?  And  to  drag  our  mother 
out  there  too  !  " 

"  Mother  seems  willing  to  go." 

"Yes,  she  is  old,  and  easily  persuaded." 

"Does  Bella  know  it?     Have  you  told  her  ?  " 

"  Know  it !  Told  her !  Do  you  think  I  would  cut  the 
strings  to  my  own  net,  and  set  my  bird  a-flying  ?  " 

Mrs.  Boynton's  proud  face  contracted  in  meditation.  She 
spoke  again  slowly.  "  It  is  a  hard  blow  to  give  a  young 
girl,  especially  one  of  Bella's  temperament." 

"  It  is  harder  for  you  and  I  to  see  our  father's  property 
go  to  Mortimer  Beale,"  Mr.  Forresst  replied ;  "and  1  desire 
your  assistance  without  more  words."  He  spoke  with  un 
flinching  hauteur.  "  To-morrow  morning  send  your  car 
riage  for  mother.  Tell  her  that  you  think  it  too  hard  for 
her  to  be  there  in  the  midst  of  all  Bella's  packing.  Bring 
her  to  your  house." 


82  BELLA  ; 

Mrs.  Boynton,  in  her  luxurious  home,  lay  awake  that 
night,  thinking.  But  Mr.  Forresst  did  not  lie  awake. 
"  Thanks  to  the  good  laws  of  Massachusetts,  I  have  found 
an  effectual  way,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  She  will  not  get 
out  of  that  berth  till  she  promises  better  fashions."  And 
then  the  brother  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning,  when  Mrs.  Boynton  went  for  her 
mother,  the  old  lady  said,  "  What !  Go  away  and  leave 
Bella  with  all  this  work  on  her  hands  ?  " 

"Never  mind  the  work,  mother.  We  will  hire  a  woman 
to  help  Bella." 

And  Bella  said,  "  Yes,  mother.  Go  with  Eunice.  Let 
me  have  a  strong  work-woman.  I  shall  do  nicely." 

Mrs.  Forresst  yielded ;  and  at  half-past  nine  she  went 
away  in  Mrs.  Boynton's  carriage.  At  eleven  another  car 
riage  came  to  the  house.  Two  men  leaped  from  it,  and 
went  up  to  the  door.  They  jerked  the  bell  like  men  in  a 
hurry,  and  like  men  unaccustomed  to  ceremony.  Bella  was 
in  a  chamber,  A  morning  robe  of  print,  and  a  large  apron 
tied  around,  was  her  apparel.  The  room  was  in  the  dis 
order  incident  to  packing  ;  and  in  the  centre  stood  an  open, 
partially-filled  trunk.  She  heard  the  door  open,  and 
heard  the  men  inquire  for  Bella  Forresst.  She  rushed  to 
the  stair-railing,  and  looked  down  into  the  hall.  She  saw 
the  brass  buttons  and  burly  forms  of  two  policemen.  She 
stepped  back,  lest  they  should  see  her ;  and  surprise  kept 
her  silent.  Bridget  came  up  the  stairs. 

"An'  sure,  Miss  Bella,  an'  what  can  they  want  o'  ye  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  cannot  go  down.  Go  back  and  ask 
them  what  they  want." 

Bridget  went  back;  but  their  reply  was,  "If  she  cannot 
come  down,  we  will  go  up." 

"  What  can  it  mean  ? "  thought  Bella ;  and  she  drew 
back  into  the  chamber  with  the  natural  retirement  of  it 


OB,   THE  CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  83 

women  en  deshabille.  She  had  scarcely  thrown  the  apron 
from  her  when  the  men  were  in  the  room. 

"This  is  Miss  Forresst,  I  suppose,"  said  he  in  front. 

"Yes,  sir."  She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  frightened  ex 
pression ;  and  a  strange  trembling  seized  her. 

"  And  this  is  your  trunk,  I  suppose,"  he  continued,  look 
ing  at  the  open  trunk  with  its  draperies  lying  within. 

Again  she  murmured,  "Yes."  She  was  afraid  of  the 
man  with  his  hold,  forward  ways.  "  If  I  was  guilty  of  any 
wrong,  I  should  think  he  was  after  me,"  was  her  flashing 
thought.  In  a  moment  more  she  understood  the  scene. 
The  man  said,  "  I  suppose  our  errand  is  not  very  pleasing 
to  you,  Miss  Forresst.  We  have  come  to  take  you  to  the 
asylum." 

"The  what?" 

"  The  insane  asylum,  Miss  Forresst.  I  suppose  you  have 
heard  your  committal  read." 

"  Committal  ?  I  have  heard  nothing.  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  Your  brother  should  have  read  it  to  you  twelve  hours 
ago ;  but,  if  he  has  failed  in  his  duty,  we  must  not  fail  in 
ours.  If  you  wish  to  lay  any  more  articles  into  that  trunk, 
we  will  wait  a  minute.  If  not,  we  may  as  well  lock  it 
now." 

Bella  was  stupefied  with  astonishment  and  horror. 
These  men  were  directing  her,  and  assuming  full  power 
over  her  movements.  She  soon  found  that  the  officers  of 
law  dispose  of  their  subjects  in  a  very  cool  manner.  See 
ing  that  she  did  not  move,  the  forward  man  locked  the 
trunk,  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  turned  to 
Bridget,  who  was  watching,  terrified,  at  the  door. 

"  Get  Miss  Forresst  a  bonnet." 

"  An'  what  may  ye  be  goin'  to  do  with  Miss  Bella  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  we  are  not  going  to  harm  her.  But  make  haste  : 
the  train  will  soon  be  leaving." 


84  BELLA  ; 

Bridget  feared  the  men  even  more  than  her  mistress. 
She  hastened  for  a  hat,  and  took  out  also  a  sack  and  a 
pair  of  gloves.  These  she  brought  to  her  young  mistress, 
saying,  "Whativer  it  be,  Miss -Bella,  niver  ye  fear.  The 
Huly  Virgin  will  protict  ye  ;  an'  I'll  say  rue  prayers  for  ye 
day  and  night." 

But  to  Bella  every  thing  was  dark.  She  stood  attired,  a 
victim  of  —  law,  we  were  about  to  say.  But  it  was  not  so. 
She  was  a  victim  of  law  dishonored,  and  of  statutes  made 
null  by  fraud.  One  of  the  men  took  her  trunk ;  the  other 
took  her  arm.  They  passed  down  the  stairs,  and  out  at  the 
door.  They  put  her  into  the  carriage,  and  drove  away. 
Bridget  was  left  alone.  They  drove  to  the  railway-station. 
Bella  sat  like  one  stupefied.  The  two  men  lifted  her  out 
by  the  two  arms.  She  stood  between  them  on  the  platform, 
one  on  either  side.  People  stared  at  her.  Women  drew 
their  garments  one  side.  Men  looked  her  over,  and  formed 
their  own  conclusions.  She  felt,  rather  than  saw,  these 
stares  ;  and  every  eye  around  her  seemed  as  a  dagger  pier 
cing  her  soul.  She  would  never  forget  these  looks.  She 
could  never  forget  them,  nor  forget  the  cold  chills  that  ran 
through  her  system  while  she  stood  between  those  men. 
Henceforward  she  would  know  how  it  seemed  to  be  in  the 
grasp  of  law  officers.  She  entered  the  cars  under,  a  battery 
of  eyes :  she  rode  under  the  consciousness  of  people  watch 
ing  her ;  and  when  she  reached  her  destination,  and  stepped 
out  on  the  platform,  she  still  felt  people  looking  strangely 
at  her. 

The  two  escorts  led  her  to  a  carriage  that  was  waiting. 
They  put  her  in  :  one  entered  with  her ;  the  other  mounted 
the  box.  It  was  the  asylum-carriage,  highly  polished,  and 
drawn  by  a  span  of  sleek  horses,  expensively  harnessed.  In 
this  carriage  Bella  was  carried  away  to  the  big  building. 
She  was  transferred  from  the  carriage  to  the  care  of  the  in- 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  85 

stltution,  where  she  was  taken  out,  and  placed  within  the 
great  asyjura  doors.  Then  the  policemen  went  away,  and 
she  was  left  "  within  the  bars."  She  felt  as  if  a  blow  had 
been  struck  in  her  face,  and  her  life  was  destroyed.  Stran 
gers  were  about  her ;  and  they,  too,  stared.  These  were 
not  the  rude  stares  of  curiosity,  but  the  professional  stares 
of  the  asylum.  She  was  not  looked  at  now,  but  was 
looked  through  and  through,  till  she  longed  to  escape 
into  some  corner  where  she  could  lie  down  and  weep 
unseen  :  it  seemed  that  the  cords  of  her  heart  were  snap 
ping. 

This  professional  scrutiny  of  the  "new  patient"  went 
against  her.  She  was  pronounced  "very  insane."  With 
her  hat,  sack,  and  gloves,  no  fault  could  be  found ;  but 
"what  young  lady  in  her  senses  would  ride  in  the  cars  in  a 
calico  wrapper?"  The  long  ringlets  were  declared  t&  be 
"  frowzled ; "  and  they  said  there  was  a  "  wild  look  in  her 
eyes."  These  were  asylum  verdicts.  No  one  asked  how 
she  was  taken  from  home,  —  whether  she  had  time  to  change 
her  dress  or  smooth  her  hair.  No  one  thought  that  her 
present  situation  was  enough  to  make  her  look  wild,  nor 
how  she  must  suffer,  —  a  prisoner  in  the  grip  of  inexorable 
men.  It  was  "  taken  for  granted  "  that  she  was  crazy  ;  and 
for  every  action  insanity  was  supposed  the  cause.  She  was 
under  the  brand. 

They  led  her  up  a  flight  of  winding,  uncarpeted  stairs, 
unlocked  a  door,  led  her  through,  and  locked  the  door  again. 
She  heard  the  key  turn  behind  her;  she  knew  that  she  was 
a  prisoner.  Faintness  struck  her,  and  the  air  grew  dark; 
but  she  rallied,  and  looked  about  her.  She  saw  herself  in 
a  long,  uncarpeted  hall,  up  and  down  which  women  were 
walking.  They  paused,  and  looked  at  her:  but  these  were 
not  stares  of  rudeness  ;  deep  pity  was  in  their  eyes.  They 
glanced  at  each  other,  and  then  at  her ;  and  she  heard  one 


86  BELLA ; 

of  them  say,  "Another.  0  Lord  God!  how  many,  —  how 
many  are  doomed  to  this  place  ?  " 

Bella  felt  that  these  ladies  were  prisoners.  She  had  come 
to  be  one  of  their  number.  It  seemed  that  the  finest  fibres 
of  her  heart  were  snapping.  Darker  and  darker  grew  the 
air.  Light  disappeared.  She  groped  to  a  chair,  and  sat 
down.  Now  she  was  struggling  under  the  prison-darkness,  — 
the  strange,  unearthly  sensation  that  rushes  over  all  human 
beings  when  first  they  feel  the  air  of  a  prison,  and  locks  have 
closed  upon  them.  Guilty  or  innocent,  rational  or  irra 
tional,  or  whatever  be  the  person's  condition,  nothing  can. 
save  them  from  that  half-terror  and  half-abjectness  that  is 
the  peculiar  feature  of  prison-life.  It  fell  upon  Bella  with 
wild  anguish.  She  turned  to  the  woman  who  locked  her 
in,  and  implored  for  pitjr;  but  never  a  word  did  the  woman 
reply.  With  her  it  was  legal,  official  business  ;  to  Bella  it 
was  as  the  knell  of  a  life-doom.  The  woman  regarded  Bella 
as  an  insane  girl,  sent  hither  by  her  friends,  because  they 
could  do  nothing  with  her  at  home.  She  paid  no  attention 
to  the  girl's  pleadings,  but  went  out,  and  locked  the  door 
behind  her. 

Nothing  could  save  Bella  now.  No  human  help  could 
she  seek.  Wishing  was  useless.  Tears  would  produce  no 
effect.  Smiles  were  powerless.  She  was  a  prisoner  under 
law,  held  in  a  stronghold,  shut  up  under  absolute  power,  — 
a  chattel  from  which  the  institution  could  draw  funds.  Ab 
solute  submission  was  now  her  only  alternative.  She  had 
become  the  property  of  the  institution.  The  officials  could 
hold  her,  rule  her,  and  subject  her  to  their  wills  or  caprices, 
just  as  men  hold  animals ;  and  there  was  no  way  for  her 
to  escape. 

She  sat  a  while  in  her  chair,  palsied  and  terrified.  Then 
she  arose  and  walked  through  the  hall.  Iron-sashed  win 
dows  were  on.  every  gide.,  and  heavy  doors  with  locks.  Sad 


OE,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  87 

women  sat  around,  and  their  eyes  turned  to  hers  with  pity. 
In  one  small  room  there  sat  a  young  lady  trimming  a  hat. 
She  looked  bright  and  joyous,  —  a  contrast  to  her  surround 
ings.  Bella  went  to  her,  saying,  "  Cannot  I  go  out  of 
here  ?  Is  that  door  always  locked  ?  "  The  girl  looked  up 
coolly,  as  attendants  learn  to  look.  "  No,  you  cannot  go. 
The  door  is  always  locked.  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  From  Boston,"  said  Bella,  and  turned  away,  with  sick 
ness  at  her  heart.  She  went  to  a  corner,  and  dropped  into 
a  chair.  An  old  lady  came  to  her  softly,  and  said,  "  Don't 
feel  so  bad,  my  dear.  It  is  no  worse  for  you  than  the  rest 
of  us.  I,  too,  am  a  prisoner." 

Bella  looked  in  the  old  face,  and  recoiled.  It  was  a  face 
on  which  suffering  had  written  deep  lines,  —  not  of  active 
misery,  but  of  rust  and  solitude,  stamping  it  with  an  inde 
finable  disagreeableness  from  which  the  fresh  young  girl 
shrank. 

"  There,  there,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  I  won't  trouble  you. 
I'll  go  away.  You  don't  know  what  to  make  of  such  a  poor 
old  thing.  God  grant  they  may  not  keep  you  here  till  you, 
too,  are  such  as  I  am  ! " 

Bella  shuddered,  but  did  not  speak.  She  saw  other  ladies 
looking  at  her,  fresh,  bright-looking  ladies ;  and  she  asked 
herself,  "  Are  they  really  insane  persons  ?  They  would 
grace  a  drawing-room." 

Presently  the  girl  who  had  been  hat-trimming  came  and 
motioned  to  her.  She  arose  and  followed.  The  stranger 
girl  led  her  diagonally  across  the  hall,  and  into  a  small  side- 
room.  She  told  her  that  this  was  to  be  her  room  ;  that  she 
might  lay  off  her  things  here,  and  that  she  "  must  make 
herself  at  home." 

"  Home  !  —  home  !  "  It  was  the  first  time  the  word  ever 
grated  on  Bella's  ears.  "  Home,  in  this  place  ?  The  very 
name  is  desecrated  by  such  a  use.  '  'Tis  home  where'er  the 
heart  is  ; '  and  my  heart "  — 


88  BELLA  ; 

She  could  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  sat  down,  speech 
less,  in  the  only  chair  the  room  afforded,  and  rested  her 
head  on  the  sill  of  the  window.  And  what  a  window  !  The 
sash  was  painted ;  but  there  was  the  cold,  hard  look  of  tho 
iron  of  which  it  was  made.  She  put  her  hand  on  it :  it  felt 
cold.  The  attending  girl  went  out  and  left  her!  At  the 
tea-hour  they  brought  her  a  cup  of  tea  and  one  small  biscuit. 
She  ate  it,  and  then  leaned  back  and  pressed  her  fingers 
over  her  eyes.  Tears  trickled  through  between  them ;  and 
she  wiped  them  away  with  a  handkerchief  that  she  drew 
from  her  wrapper-pocket.  A  man  passed  her  door.  He 
paused  and  looked  in,  but  did  not  speak.  She  felt  annoyed, 
and  arose  to  shut  the  door :  it  would  not  stay  closed.  It 
was  a  coarse,  heavy  door ;  and  she  examined  the  fastening. 
There  was  neither  knob  nor  latch.  There  was  a  lock,  with 
a  place  for  a  key,  on  the  outside  ;  but  inside  there  was  no 
way  to  fasten  the  door  together.  She  could  neither  shut  it 
against  intruders,  nor  have  any  other  control  over  it.  She 
sat  down  again,  distressed.  The  day  was  waning.  Shad 
ows  were  gathering.  New  voices  were  heard  in  the  hall. 
The  assistant  physician  was  taking  an  official  tour.  He 
paused  before  Bella,  and  looked  her  over.  She  was  his 
"  new  patient."  He  must  make  a  medical  examination. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  had  you  no  better  dress  in  which 
to  ride  here  ?  This  is  not  a  suitable  travelling-costume." 

Bella's  cheeks  crimsoned,  and  her  eyes  flashed.  Indig 
nation  superseded  her  distress.  She  felt  that  this  man  must 
know,  or  ought  to  inquire  into,  the  circumstances  in  which 
she  had  been  taken  from  home,  and  her  situation  otherwise. 
She  thought  of  the  rough  treatment  through  which  she  had 
passed,  and  answered  this  smooth-tongued  stranger  scorn 
fully,  "  Is  it  any  of  your  business  what  I  ride  in  ?  " 

The  physician  smiled  with  a  peculiar  meaning.  "Nev 
er  mind,  dear.  We  hope  to  see  you  in  a  better  frame 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  89 

of  mind,  by  and  by."  He  whispered  to  the  attendant, 
"  Very  bad !  "  He  passed  along  ;  and  she  was  alone  again. 
Evening  was  fairly  set  in.  There  was  a  light  in  the  hall ; 
but  in  her  room  there  was  no  light,  save  what  gleamed 
through  her  half-open  door.  Was  she  to  sit  there  in  dark 
ness  ?  Nay,  more.  Was  she  to  stay  there  all  night  ? 
Was  she  to  sleep  on  that  narrow  bunk,  and  within  that 
cell-like  room  ?  She  gave  her  room  a  careful  scrutiny. 
It  was  about  twelve  feet  long,  and  ten  in  width.  In  it 
there  was  a  narrow  iron  bedstead,  dressed  with  a  mattress, 
and  with  one  pillow  in  the  middle  at  the  head.  The  walls 
of  the  room  were  covered  with  coarse  paper ;  and  it  had 
that  dingy, -unwholesome  look  that  comes  from  closeness 
long  continued,  like  dust  stifled. 

There  was  a  bureau,  or  something  they  called  a  bu 
reau,  opposite  the  bed;  and  over  this  bureau  hung  a 
seven-by-nine  pane  of  glass,  called  by  courtesy  a  mirror. 
There  was  also  a  washstand  in  one  corner,  very  much 
dilapidated,  and  looking  as  if  generations  had  used  it. 
Besides  these,  there  was  the  old  chair  in  which  she  was 
sitting,  and  a  cotton  curtain  at  the  window.  The  floor 
was  of  a  dark,  ancient  yellow,  carpetless,  save  a  strip 
before  the  bed. 

"  And  here  I  am  to  stay  to-night,"  said  the  girl  to  her 
self.  "  How  much  longer  ?  Who  knows  ?  " 

Suddenly  a  woman,  bearing  a  tray  of  glasses,  appeared 
in  the  doorway.  In  each  glass  there  was  a  decoction  of 
some  sort.  The  woman  placed  the  tray  on  the  small 
bureau ;  and,  taking  up  a  glass,  handed  it  to  Bella. 

"  What  is  that  for  ?  "  asked  Bella  in  amazement. 

"  It  is  medicine  for  you  to  drink." 

"Medicine!    Why  should  I  take  medicine  ?    I  am  not  ill." 

"  You  are  to  take  this,  however.  The  doctor  prepared  it 
for  you." 

8* 


90    •  BELLA  ; 

"Doctor !  No  doctor  has  examined  me.  I  should  advise 
him  to  see  whether  I  am  ill  before  he  prescribes." 

"Come,"  said  the  woman  peremptorily,  "I  can't  stop  to 
parley.  Take  it ! " 

But  the  idea  of  taking  strange  medicine  without  proper 
medical  prescription  was  horrible  to  Bella's  mind.  She 
had  been  taught  that  great  care  was  necessary  in  adminis 
tering  medicines ;  and  she  answered  decidedly,  "  I  will 
not  take  it.  No  doctor  has  spoken  to  me,  except  one  who 
asked  me  about  my  dress ;  and  that  was  all  he  said  to 
me.  I  will  not  take  medicine  without  proper  prescrip 
tions." 

The  woman  stepped  forward,  holding  the  glass  firmly  in 
one  hand.  With  the  other  she  seized  Bella  by  the  head  ; 
and,  giving  her  a  twist  that  made  her  defenceless,  she  held 
the  glass  to  her  lips. 

"  Drink  it !  " 

And  Bella  swallowed  it,  she  scarce  knew  how.  Then 
the  woman  turned,  took  up  her  tray,  went  out,  and  said  to 
the  attending  girl,  nodding  her  head  toward  Bella's  room, 
"You  have  a  hard  subject  in  there.  Keep  firm." 

And  still  Bella  sat  there.  The  potion  was  doing  its 
work.  Stupid  sleepiness  came  over  her.  She  felt  it 
through  her  frame;  and,  rousing  herself,  said,  "I  may  as 
well  go  to  bed.  What  is  there  to  sit  up  for  ?  " 

Then  she  thought  of  her  trunk.  Where  was  it  ?  She 
remembered  that  in  the  bottom  of  it  she  had  laid  some 
fine  underclothing.  She  must  have  a  nightdress.  She 
called  the  attending  girl,  and  said,  "  Where  is  my 
trunk  ?  " 

"Down  in  the  marking-room,  I  suppose." 

"  I  should  like  it.  Will  you  ask  some  one  to  bring  it 
up  ?  " 

"  You  can't  have  it  to-night.  Your  things  have  not 
been  examined." 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF   LIBERTY.  91 

"  Examined  !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  your  clothes  must  be  looked  over,  and  marked." 

"Will  they  take  out  my  clothes,  and  handle  them 
over  ?  " 

"They  are  obliged  to.     That  is  the  rule." 

Bella  sighed  with  a  strange  helplessness.  She  was  com 
pletely  in  the  power  of  these  strangers. 

"  What  shall  I  do  for  a  nightdress  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know."  The  attendant  said  this  curtly,  and 
left  the  room.  Bella  retired  that  night  literally  without 
one  accustomed  comfort.  She  disrobed  in  darkness,  put  a 
skirt  over  her  shoulders,  and  lay  down  on  the  hard,  nar 
row  bed.  She  heard  the  sounds  of  voices  and  steps,  —  the 
women  going  to  their  solitary  rooms,  and  the  attendant 
scolding,  driving,  or  coaxing,  as  the  case  might  be.  Then 
came  another  sound,  —  a  clicking,  harsh  sound;  and  she 
listened  wonderingly.  It  was  the  click  of  the  locks,  as, 
one  after  another,  the  attendant  put  her  key  in  them,  and 
fastened  the  women's  doors.  So  intense  was  Bella's  in 
terest,  that  the  effect  of  her  potion  was  in  a  measure 
counteracted  by  her  quickening  sensations.  She  raised 
her  head,  and  was  trying  to  look  into  the  hall,  when  her 
doorway  was  darkened  by  a  shadow ;  and  a  girl  with  a  key 
looked  in.  Bella  dropped  back  into  the  bed;  and  the  giii 
stopped  into  the  room.  "  It  is  time  you  were  asleep,"  she 
said.  "  Let  there  be  no  noise  in  your  room  to-night." 
Then  the  girl  turned,  put  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  drew  the 
door  together.  It  snapped ;  and  Bella  was  a  prisoner  in  her 
cell.  She  sat  up  in  her  bed,  and  thought,  "  Wherein  am  I 
different  from  a  prisoner  in  a  state  prison  ?  Here  I  am, 
double-locked  from  all  the  world,  lying  in  a  room  that  is 
close  as  a  felon's  cell.  God  have  mercy  on  me,  and  forgive 
those  who  have  done  this  thing !  " 

She  slept  a  while,  but  awoke  in  the  night  in  the  middle 


92  BELLA  ; 

of  the  darkness,  and  thought  of  her  situation,  her  mother, 
Mortimer,  and  this  sad  trouble  that  had  met  her  in  her  life- 
path.  She  heard  the  night  winds  moan  around  the  angles 
of  the  large  building ;  and  they  seemed  to  her  like  sighings 
of  the  departed.  There  were  other  sounds, — cry  ings  and 
groanings,  as  of  people  in  distress.  She  heard  them  in  dif 
ferent  directions ;  and  the  sounds  added  to  the  desolation 
that  oppressed  her.  Then  —  but  —  hark !  There  was  a  cry 
near  her,  a  sobbing  as  of  deep  distress.  It  was  in  the  cell 
adjoining  hers.  Some  woman's  heart  was  breaking  there 
all  alone.  There  were  words  mingled  with  the  sobs,  — • 
words  that  seemed  to  be  of  prayer ;  for  the  tones  were  those 
of  supplication.  How  Bella  longed  to  get  to  the  sufferer, 
that  she  might  console  her! 

Soon  footsteps  were  heard  coining  through  the  hall.  A 
light  shone  through  the  aperture  over  Bella's  door ;  and  she 
thought  some  one  was  going  to  the  relief  of  the  sufferer. 
But,  no:  the  footsteps  kept  on,  died  awa}',  and  were  heard 
no  more.  They  were  the  steps  of  the  night-watch,  going 
the  rounds  with  a  lantern.  The  night-watch  heard  these 
sobs  ;  but  what  of  that  ?  It  was  "  only  a  patient  "  weep 
ing.  In  that  expression,  "only  a  patient,"  there  lies  a 
deep  meaning.  When  persons  are  committed  to  these 
institutions,  they  become  "patients."  They  lose  their 
human  privileges,  and  are  treated  as  if  void  of  natural 
affections.  They  are  supposed  to  have  no  loves,  nor  hopes, 
nor  desires ;  yet,  when  their  friends  come  to  visit  them, 
they  are  required  to  show  every  symptom  of  natural  joy, 
with  not  one  particle  of  indignation  at  their  unnatural 
treatment.  They  are  told  to  consider  their  situation  as 
one  of  God's  providences,  and  that  against  his  will  it  is  a 
sin  to  murmur. 

Bella  had  not  yet  learned  the  train  of  asylum  argument. 
To  her  these  cries  of  her  neighbor  were  the  cries  of 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  93 

pain  and  anguish  going  up  there  to  God  alone ;  and  they 
seemed  to  her  to  need  human  sympathy.  The  next  morn 
ing  she  ventured  into  the  hall,  and  looked  wistfully  among 
the  ladies,  hoping  to  find  the  night  weeper :  but  all  were 
strangers  ;  and  it  was  not  till  many  days  after,  that  she 
learned  which  of  these  prisoners  this  was.  There  are  no 
introductions  in  asylum  halls.  Ladies,  accustomed  to 
civilized  proprieties  and  the  forms  of  etiquette,  are  taken 
from  their  homes  and  from  society  without  time  to  say 
farewell :  they  are  carried  and  landed  within  asylums 
without  ceremony ;  and  with  broken  hearts,  without  an 
nouncement  or  introduction,  they  make  acquaintance  as 
they  can.  Bella  was  not  exempt  from  the  general  rule. 
She  felt  unutterably  sad,  but  spoke  to  no  one.  For  a 
time  none  of  the  ladies  spoke  to  her.  They  looked  at  her, 
and  deep  in  their  souls  they  pitied  her;  for  well  they 
knew  the  anguish  through  which  she  was  passing.  They, 
who  had  themselves  passed  through  this  sorrow  knew  how 
to  feel  for  her;  and  they  whispered  of  her  among  them 
selves,  — 

"So  young!  So  beautiful!  What  a  shame  to  shut 
her  in  here !  What  do  our  people  mean  by  banishing  so 
many  good  and  beautiful  to  these  prison-houses  ?  " 

Bella  did  not  hear  these  remarks  ;  but  she  was  conscious 
of  sympathetic  glances,  and  felt  that  among  these  ladies 
there  was  kindly  love  waiting  for  her.  She  saw  that  the 
ladies  were  well-dressed  and  refined;  and  it  seemed  to  her 
like  sin  to  keep  them  in  this  confinement*  With  a  few 
exceptions,  she  saw  no  indications  of  aberration  of  mind ; 
but  she  saw  ladies  of  education  and  refinement  living  there 
in  a  prison  existence  of  loneliness  and  heart  desolation. 

One  morning,  as  she  sat  in  her  only  chair,  after  breakfast, 
two  of  the  ladies  walked  slowly  to  her  door  and  looked  in. 
One  of  tkem  had  a  proudly  set  head,  beautiful  blue  eyes, 


94  BELLA  ; 

and  an  oval  forehead,  above  which  lay  braided  bands  of 
glossy  auburn  hair.  She  wore  a  dress  of  green  and  white 
silk,  flowing  in  a  train  behind;  and  buckled  slippers  were 
peeping  out  from  beneath  the  ruffled  skirt. 

Leaning  upon  the  arm  of  this  woman  was  another.  She 
had  large  lustrous  eyes,  looking  out  from  beneath  eye-brows 
of  jet.  She  was  tall;  and  her  form  was  enveloped  in  a 
cashmere  robe,  over  which  floated  a  soft,  fleecy  scarf  of 
white.  The  two  ladies  introduced  each  other.  The  blue- 
eyed  lady  was  Mrs.  Long  ;  the  luminous,  black-eyed  woman 

was  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  gentleman  in  the  suburbs  of -. 

The  husband  of  Mrs.  Long  was  a  lawyer  of  rising  fame, 
"  very  smart,"  she  said,  smiling  curiously  as  she  spoke,  — 
"  smart  enough  to  get  me  in  here." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  the  luminous-eyed  lady ;  "  but  it  does 
not  require  much  smartness  to  do  that  in  these  days,  when 
nearly  every  doctor  is  a  backer  to  these  institutions." 

As  she  said  this,  lines  of  fine  thought  passed  over  her 
face ;  and  Bella  was  reminded  of  heroines  of  whom  she  had 
read  in  history ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  some  imprisoned 
princess  stood  before  her.  They  opened  their  hearts  there 
together.  They  revealed  to  each  other  the  under-currents 
of  their  lives,  and  felt  a  chord  of  electric  sympathy  in 
trouble,  —  a  chord  that  is  ever  vibrating  through  asylum- 
halls,  and  which  is  the  chief,  and  almost  only  solace  of  the 
inmates  in  their  troubles. 

Between  the  officers  or  employes  of  these  establishments 
and  their  patients  there  is  very  little  sympathy.  Coercion 
and  force  on  one  side,  and  absolute  submission  on  the  other, 
are  like  oil  and  water :  they  may  be  shaken  together,  but 
have  no  affinity.  The  officers  and  employes  of  asylums 
hold  reins  of  sovereign  power  over  their  imprisoned  people; 
and  the  people  under  them  live  in  a  state  of  absolute  subjec 
tion.  There  are  men  and  women,  by  the  scores  and  hun- 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  95 

dreds,  nay,  by  the  thousands,  now  in  these  locked  buildings, 
who  have  lived  under  these  hard  rules  till  the  lines  of  sor 
row  and  discipline  on  their  faces  are  as  graven  lines  that 
can  never  be  erased.  They  have  lived  as  close  prisoners, 
subject  to  the  tempers  of  different  rulers,  seeing  others  go 
in  and  out  till  their  lives  seem  as  a  miserable  stupefaction,  — 
a  torpor  of  anguish,  out  of  which  they  can  never  come  ;  and 
the  years  of  their  misery  may  be  counted  by  the  furrows  of 
anguish  on  their  countenances.  It  made  Bella's  heart  ache 
to  see  these  prisoners  of  years,  ihey  looked  so  sad  and 
weary.  There  was  one  in  this  hall,  —  a  silver-haired  woman, 
who  wore  a  soft  lace  cap,  trimmed  with  lavender,  on  whose 
face  patience  had  stamped  the  indelible  marks  of  these 
long,  solitary  years.  When  Bella  was  told  that  this  old  lady 
had  been  a  patient  twenty-seven  years,  she  was  shocked, 
and  could  scarcely  credit  her  own  ears.  She  went  to  the 
woman. 

"  Is  it  true,  Mrs.  Spears,  that  you  have  been  twenty- 
seven  years  an  inmate  of  an  insane  asylum  ?  " 

"  It  is  quite  true,  my  dear." 

"  I  cannot  realize  it,"  Bella  answered  thoughtfully. 
"  Before  I  was  born,  when  I  was  born,  and  all  the  time 
since,  you  have  been  a  prisoner!  I  am  sure  I  did  not 
know  that  here,  in  our  free  country,  people  could  be  held  in 
prison,  unless  they  had  committed  crimes  !  " 

"  You  know  little  of  the  world  as  yet,  my  dear  young 
lady." 

"  But  it  seems,  Mrs.  Spears,  that  such  a  life  would  be 
hardly  worth  the  having." 

"  I  have  often  thought  that,"  the  old  lady  responded, 
looking  tearfully  at  Bella.  "But,  life  being  once  given  us, 
we  must  bear  it,  with  whatever  comes  in  its  train.  It  has 
been  the  will  of  my  heavenly  Father  that  I  should  live  this 
solitary  life  of  hopelessness ;  and  who  am  I  that  I  should 
gainsay  his  will  ?  " 


96  BELLA  ; 

"  Is  it  the  will  of  God,  or  the  will  of  man  ? "  asked 
Bella. 

The  old  lady  recoiled.  "  Oh  !  my  dear  young  lady,  do  not 
speak  blasphemously.  All  things  are  of  God's  will." 

"  Then,  why  do  we  try  to  get  rid  of  the  wrongs,  and 
uproot  evil  ?  "  asked  Bella.  "  If  wrong  is  from  God's  will, 
let  it  stand ;  but  if  it  is  from  man,  who  sets  up  to  know 
more  than  God,  let  us  tear  it  down,  and  put  right  in  its 
place." 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  lady  meekly,  "you,  who  are  young, 
may  see  to  these  deep  matters.  I  am  verging  to  eternity. 
I  have  suffered ;  and  my  days  are  almost  numbered.  I  pray 
for  a  spirit  to  forgive  those  who  have  kept  these  bonds  over 
me;  but  it  pains  me  more  than  tongue  can  tell  when  I 
see  young  girls,  like  you,  brought  into  these  halls." 

"Christian  prisoner,"  was  Bella's  thought.  "Could  I 
ever  so  submit  and  forgive  ?  " 

"  Go  to  your  room,  Mrs.  Spears  ! "  commanded  a  pert 
young  girl,  drawing  near.  And  the  old  lady  went,  meekly 
walking  across  the  hall  that  might  almost  be  channelled  by 
her  feet  that  had  trodden  it  so  long  as  a  patient.  She  went 
to  her  room,  and  sat  down  to  her  Bible,  the  only  solace  she 
possessed ;  aud  Bella,  too,  went  to  her  room.  The  tones  of 
that  pert  command  were  still  ringing  in  her  ears ;  and  she 
longed  to  reprove  that  young  attendant  for  such  rough 
speech. 

Sabbath  came,  in  its  own  due  time,  and  the  patients 
were  notified  to  prepare  for  chapel.  The  attendants  went 
around,  ordering  some  to  go,  and  commanding  others  not 
to  go,  as  their  piques  and  fancies  dictated.  Bella  was  told 
to  "  Go !  "  Her  trunk,  after  three  days'  waiting,  and  after 
all  the  articles  had  been  handled  under  pretext  for  marking, 
had  at  last  come  to  her ;  and,  with  a  soul  full  of  pain,  she 
selected  from  it  a  dress.  When  the  chapel-bell  rang,  she 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  97 

was  ready.  Bands  of  women  began  to  come  out  from  the 
different  halls  and  centre  towards  the  chapel.  Sad,  dejected 
faces  passed  by  Bella  as  she  stood  waiting  her  turn.  The 
patients  from  each  hall  were  under  the  escort  of  separate 
attendants,  and  walked  in  files,  as  ordered.  Some  were 
well-dressed,  and  some  were  clad  in  a  cheapness  inexpressi 
ble.  Some  were  intelligent  in  countenance,  and  some  were 
quite  the  reverse.  Some  were  fresh  in  skin  and  complexion, 
and  evidently  were  fresh  from  the  world.  Others  wore  the 
unmistakable  marks  of  long  duress,  and  sufferings  borne  in 
solitude. 

The  women  from  Bella's  hall  fell  into  the  ranks,  and, 
walking  in  a  line,  descended  the  stairs  when  they  were 
bidden.  In  the  central  hall  the  women  were  gathered, 
waiting  the  passage  of  men,  who  were  coming  in  file  from 
their  apartments.  A  shadow  fell  over  Bella's  soul  as  she 
saw  these  men.  They  followed  each  other  in  regular  tramp, 
each  division  under  its  keeper.  Some  of  the  faces  were 
demented,  but  many  of  them  were  bright  and  intelligent ; 
and  some  equalled,  in  every  respect,  the  superintendent, 
who  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  aisle,  watching  the  defile  as 
it  passed  along.  To  Bella  the  scene  seemed  like  the  pass 
ing  of  mortals  to  eternity.  She  was  very  sad ;  and  as  she 
entered  the  chapel,  guarded  as  she  was,  and  realized  how 
these  were  all  imprisoned,  like  herself,  she  could  scarce 
restrain  her  tears.  Trouble  seemed  all  about  her,  —  trouble, 
trouble,  everywhere.  She  could  not  enjoy  the  service.  It 
was  but  mockery  to  her.  She  could  not  worship  a  free 
God  while  she  was  thus  bound.  Her  soul  cried,  "  Let  me 
go.  Let  me  go,  my  Father,  that  I  may  worship  thee  in 
peace."  But  for  her  there  was  no  release.  She  must  be 
remanded  back  to  her  cell,  back  to  her  prison  and  solitude. 
And  all  these  who  had  come  out  to  worship  must  go  back, 
back  to  their  solitude,  heartsickness,  and  despair. 
J 


98  BELLA  ; 

Bella  wept  that  sabbath  night :  she  could  not  help  it. 
She  wept  for  herself  in  bondage,  and  she  wept  for  others 
whom  she  saw  suffering  about  her.  Alas  !  she  was  not  the 
only  one  who  wept  in  that  building.  Hers  was  not  the  only 
anguished  heart  that  was  crushing  beneath  the  strictures 
of  those  laws.  There  were  tears  in  every  corridor,  there 
was  mourning  in  every  hall. 

The  next  morning  Bella  met  the  matron  as  she  was 
crossing  the  hall.  The  matron  said,  "  Good-morning,  Miss 
Forresst.  How  do  you  do  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Do  ?  "  said  Bella  meditatively :  "  how  can  any  one  do 
here  ?  Mrs.  Matron,  this  is  a  house  of  tears." 

"  Oh,  well,  never  mind !     You  do  not  shed  tears." 

"  I  shall,  or  go  mad,  if  I  stay  here,"  was  Bella's  response, 
as  she  turned  quickly  from  the  woman  who  spoke  with  so 
little  feeling.  "  She  ought  to  weep  herself,"  was  the  thought 
of  the  girl :  "  she  ought  to  weep  for  the  suffering  she  sees 
about  her." 

But  the  matron  was  a  strong  woman  :  she  saw  no  cause 
for  tears.  Day  by  day  she  walked  among  these  anguished 
women,  and  never  felt  one  throb  of  pity. 


OB,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  99 


CHAPTER  XL 

jjELLA  took  her  first  lessons  in  asylum  latter-writing 
in  this  wise :  the  matron  was  passing  through  the 
hall,  when  a  young  girl  went  to  her  with  a  letter 
in  her  hand. 

"  Will  you  please  read  my  letter,  and  see  if  it 
will  do  to  send  ?  "  the  girl  asked  in  a  soft,  winning  voice. 

The  matron  paused,  and  took  the  letter :  she  opened  it. 
and  glanced  it  through ;  then  she  returned  it  to  the  writer. 
"  No,  I  cannot  send  this  letter :  it  is  very  improperly  writ 
ten  ;  it  has  the  word  'prison'  three  times,  and  you  say  you 
want  to  go  home." 

"  Why  is  it  improper  to  say  prison  ?  I  am  in  prison 
Why  is  it  wrong  to  say  I  want  to  go  home  ?  It  would  be 
wrong  if  I  did  not  want  to  go  home." 

"  Oh  !  you  do  not  understand,  my  child.  This  is  not 
a  prison  :  this  is  a  place  where  you  come  to  get  well." 

"  But  it  is  a  prison,"  the  girl  replied,  with  tears  starting 
into  her  eyes.  "  I  am  all  shut  up  :  locks,  keys,  bars,  and 
watchful  eyes  are  all  about  me.  I  cannot  go  out  unless  a 
guard  goes  with  me.  What  is  it  but  a  prison  ?  " 

"  You  are  excited,"  said  the  matron :  "  you  had  better 
go  to  your  room." 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  be  excited  ?  I  have  been  here  three 
years.  I  am  worn  out  with  this  life." 

"  Oh,  well !  You  shall  go  away  just  as  soon  as  the  doc 
tor  considers  you  well  enough." 


100  BELLA  ; 

"  When  will  he  call  me  well  ?  I  think  three  years  is 
long  enough  to  be  under  one  doctor  or  one  system  of  medi 
cal  treatment." 

"But  you  mustn't  tell  what  you  think :  the  doctors 
know  better  than  you." 

"  I  know  enough  to  know  that  three  years  is  a  very  long 
time  to  endure  this  life,"  the  girl  replied.  "  If  I  write 
another  letter,  and  leave  out  the  word  prison,  will  you  send 
it?" 

"I  will  read  it,  and  see.  Go  to  your  room  now,  and 
don't  make  us  any  more  trouble.  Can't  you  see  that  it 
is  very  unpleasant  for  us  to  be  teased  all  the  time  ?  " 

"I  should  like  to  know  who  we  can  ask,  if  not  you," 
said  the  girl.  "  We  are  locked  in  here  with  no  earthly 
privilege,  and  no  one  whom  we  can  ask  for  the  least  favor 
except  you,  who  are  hired  to  take  care  of  us ;  and  if  you 
will  not "  — 

"  Hush  !  "  commanded  the  matron.  "  Go  to  your  room, 
and  let  there  be  no  more  complaining." 

The  helpless  girl  went  back  to  her  room.  "I  shall 
never  go  home,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  shall  never  go 
out  of  here.  They  mean  to  keep  me  :  they  know  I  have 
no  father  and  mother;  and  they  can  make  my  uncle  be 
lieve  whatever  they  tell  him.  But  I  will  write  again. 
My  uncle  told  me  to  write,  and  to  tell  him  all  my  feelings. 
I  will  try  once  more." 

Bella  watched  this  scene  with  absorbing  interest.  It 
threw  a  new  light  upon  her  own  situation.  She  said  to 
herself,  "  What !  cannot  these  patients  write  without  being 
watched  ?  Cannot  I  write  and  say  what  I  please  ?  How 
then  shall  I  get  out  of  here  ?  I  want  to  tell  Edward  and 
Mortimer.  I  want  to  write.  I  must  write." 

She  watched  eagerly  for  the  denouement :  it  came  the 
next  day.  Again  the  matron  was  passing  through  the  halL 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  101 

Again  the  girl  went  to  her,  and  laid  an  open  letter  in  her 
hand.  Neither  prison,  nor  synonym  for  prison,  was  in  this 
letter.  The  matron  glanced  it  through;  and  the  girl  watched 
her  countenance.  The  woman's  face  was  not  the  index  of 
the  most  favorahle  feelings.  Looking  at  the  girl,  she  said, 
"  But  you  still  say  you  want  to  go  home." 

"  Because  I  do  want  to  go,"  the  girl  said.  And  indeed 
she  did  want  to  go.  A  letter  without  the  expression  of  that 
sentiment  would  not  have  seemed  half  a  letter  to  her ;  and 
she  would  have  heen  no  happier  for  sending  it.  "  Well," 
said  the  matron,  "  I  will  take  it,"  and  left  the  hall  with  the 
letter  in  her  hand. 

Long  the  patient  waited  for  an  answer  to  that  letter. 
Her  heart  sank  with  hope  deferred,  and  vain  conjectures  as 
to  why  her  uncle  did  not  write.  Could  she  have  seen  the 
reason,  could  she  have  known  why  he  failed  to  reply,  her 
heart  would  have  gone  yet  lower ;  for  she  would  have  seen 
that  her  letter  went  — -  the  way  of  the  waste-basket.  Her 
uncle  never  received  it.  Instead  of  it,  he  received  ^an  offi 
cial  asylum-letter,  in  which  was  an  account  of  his  niece, 
such  as  it  pleased  the  officers  to  write.  And  the  old  man 
said,  "  I  am  sorry  for  my  niece.  I  did  hope  she  would  get 
well ;  but,  if  she  cannot,  why,  I  suppose  that  is  the  best 
place  for  her."  Then  he  remitted  the  sum  demanded  for 
her  board  ;  and  she  —  is  there  now. 

Absolute  power  produces  different  effects  upon  different 
individuals.  It  changes  some  persons  into  tyrants ;  and, 
as  the  rule  of  prison  officers  over  their  subjects  is  absolute, 
it  follows  that  prison  keepers  are  affected  by  having  this 
absolute  sway.  Some  rule  with  moderation ;  some  are 
calm,  some  passionate ;  some  are  cold,  hard,  fiendish. 
Whatever  emotions  affect  the  prison-keepers  are  vented  on 
the  prisoners.  Are  the  keepers  weary,  disappointed,  or 
unhappy  ?  Down  upon  their  hapless  victims  fall  the  wreak- 
9* 


102  BELLA ; 

ings  of  their  souls ;  and  there  is  no  way  for  the  victims  to 
escape.  Locks,  keys,  and  grates  are  all  about  them.  A 
lamb  may  be  locked  up  under  a  lion  ;  and  in  all  this  broad 
land  not  one  person  can  look  within  to  see  or  pity.  Alas  ! 
God  save  prisoners  !  There  are  more  crimes  committed 
against  them  than  ever  they  committed. 

We  speak  of  asylums  as  prisons  when  they  have  prison- 
locks  and  prison-rules,  in  distinction  from  open  hospitals 
and  houses. 

When  the  nights  came  on  in  this  place,  when  Evening 
drew  her  sacred  mantle  down,  and  Nature  called  for  rest, 
Bella  went  into  her  cell,  —  for  the  patient's  rooms  in 
asylums  can  be  called  by  no  other  name  than  cells ;  and 
there  she  sought  the  rest  that  would  not  come,  for  sadness 
and  tears  crowded  it  away.  She  lay  awake,  and  watched 
the  night-sky  through  her  bars.  She  thought  of  the  pos 
sibility  of  escape.  Could  she  crowd  through  her  iron- 
barred  windows,  tie  her  sheets  together,  let  herself  down 
by  them,  and  so  escape  ?  She  thought  of  heroes  and  hero 
ines,  and  of  the  devices  by  which  they  had  disappeared 
from  dungeons  and  towers.  She  thought  of  their  daring 
feats  and  bold  escapades.  She  recalled  the  tales  of  queens 
which  she  had  read,  and  wondrous  sufferers  like  Marie 
Antoinette  and  Baron  Trenck.  Then  she  thought  of  the 
long  list  of  persons  imprisoned  and  persecuted  for  right 
eousness'  sake;  and  she  sighed,  "Oh,  man's  inhumanity  to 
man  !  Through  countless  ages,  how  cruel  it  has  been ! 
Yet  God  ever  shineth  the  same,  even  as  the  sun  shines. 
He  sees  all  this  wickedness.  He  sees  it  in  our  fair  Ameri 
ca,  where  I  myself  am  suffering,  and  where  thousands  of 
my  countrymen  and  women  are  sharing  in  like  bondage." 

Sometimes  she  wrenched  at  the  sash  of  her  window,  as 
though  she  would  force  it  to  give  way.  She  might  as  well 
have  moved  an  iron  mount.  Then  she  tried  to  sleep;  but, 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  103 

if  she  could  compose  her  own  soul,  the  moans,  the  sobs, 
the  tears,  the  wails,  the  groans,  and  shrieks  about  the  build 
ing  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night  air,  and  kept  her 
awake  by  sympathy. 

Sympathy  !  Are  insane  patients  capable  of  sympathy  ? 
Ah  !  What  would  they  do  without  it  ?  Bella  found  it  her 
chief  outward  support.  Sympathy  for  each  other  is  not 
denied  to  patients,  except  when  they  are  overheard  to 
criticise  the  management  of  the  place.  The  moment  that 
attendants  suspect  their  patients  are  speaking  of  the  asylum 
or  hall  discipline  in  terms  of  censure,  the  cry  rings  out, 
"  To  your  rooms,  to  your  rooms !  Every  one  of  you  to 
your  rooms  ! " 

Then  every  patient  becomes  a  solitary  prisoner.  Silence, 
utter,  drear,  and  crushing,  is  their  portion.  Whatever 
their  needs,  they  dare  not  speak.  Free  speech  is  a  forbid 
den  liberty  within  these  sovereign  kingdoms. 

Bella  often  asked  herself,  "  If  I  were  already  crazed, 
would  not  this  life  make  me  worse  ?  " 

She  saw  and  heard  acts  of  harshness  even  in  this  the 
best  hall ;  and  she  was  conscious  of  greater  cruelties  in  the 
halls  adjoining.  She  saw  people  brought  every  day  and 
left,  sometimes  under  circumstances  even  more  distressing 
than  her  own  ;  and  many  of  these  people  had  not  her 
health  and  strength  to  endure  it. 

"I  thought,"  she  said  to  one  of  the  ladies,  "that  this 
was  a  land  of  liberty,  of  happiness,  and  of  equality.  I  am 
sure  none  of  these  qualities  are  in  this  asylum  system. 
By  these  asylum  practices,  people  are  snatched  from 
their  homes  as  ruthlessly  as  though  barbarians  ruled  us ; 
and  we  are  held  in  bondage  as  abject  as  tyranny  can 
invent.  And  how  people  suffer  by  such  treatment !  " 

An  old  lady,  who  had  been  a  patient  many  years,  inter 
posed,  "  My  dear  miss,  you  must  be  careful.  Such  license 
of  speech  is  not  permitted  here." 


104  BELLA  ; 

11  How  ?  Will  they  prevent  my  talking  ?  They  may 
try,  but  can  they  succeed  ?  " 

"  They  will,  indeed,  if  you  talk  against  the  institution." 

"I  think  I  have  a  right  to  express  my  thoughts,  wher 
ever  I  am  ;  and  I  cannot  help  speaking,  when  I  see  such  a 
scene  as  that  which  just  passed  hefore  us." 

What  was  this  scene  ?  It  was  the  arrival  of  Mrs. 
Merrill.  > 

Mrs.  James  Merrill  was  a  small,  pale,  delicate  young 
woman.  She  came  to  visit  the  asylum  with  her  husband, 
as  she  supposed.  She  had  not  one  idea  that  her  physician 
had  directed  and  advised  her  husband  to  take  this  course. 
She  had  three  darling  little  children,  from  whom  she  had 
never  been  separated  scarcely  for  a  day.  When  her  hus 
band  told  her  that  the  doctor  thought  a  ride  would  be 
beneficial  to  her,  her  first  impulse  was  to  provide  for  the 
comfort  of  these  little  ones  during  her  brief  absence.  She 
set  apart  tid-bit  dainties  for  them,  made  sure  that  every 
thing  was  comfortable  about  them,  and  gave  the  nurse 
repeated  charges  concerning  them.  Then  she  kissed  them, 
and  went.  The  day  was  fine ;  and  she  enjoyed  the  trip  in 
the  cars.  Her  husband  proposed  that  they  should  stop 

at ,  and  dine.  She  was  happy  to  do  so,  and  thought 

she  never  enjoyed  a  dinner  so  much.  The  freshness  of 
the  food,  and  the  change  from  her  home  diet,  seemed 
to  give  her  recuperative  powers ;  and,  when  her  husband 
proposed  that  they  walk  about  and  see  the  place,  she 
gladly  accepted  the  offer,  and  went  with  her  arm  in 
his.  They  walked  a  while,  he  purposely  going  towards  the 
asylum;  and,  when  they  came  within  view  of  it,  she  said, 
"  What  a  large  building  !  What  is  it  ?  "  —  "It  is  an  insane 
asylum,"  he  answered.  "  Let  us  go  in  and  visit  it."  — 
"  Can  we  ?  "  she  asked  innocently.  "  Yes.  We  can  be 
admitted  at  any  time." 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  105 

All  unconscious  of  what  was  in  store  for  her,  she  walked 
in.  They  were  received  politely :  no  word  nor  hint  was 
given  that  could  undeceive  the  doomed  woman.  They 
walked  through  the  halls  till  they  reached  the  one  designed 
to  he  hers.  She  stood  looking  in  pity  upon  the  inmates, 
and  thinking  that  she  should  go  crazy  if  she  had  to  live 
there.  Seeing  that  she  was  absorbed,  the  official  motioned 
to  the  husband;  and  the  two  slipped  out  together.  She 
stood  alone  :  presently  she  looked  around.  "  Where  is  my 
husband  ? "  she  asked  in  surprise.  "  He  is  gone."  — 
"  Gone !  I  didn't  see  him  go."  Supposing  he  had  gone 
only  for  a  moment,  she  turned  her  attention  again  to  the 
scenes  about  her.  Time  passed,  and  still  she  was  alone.  She 
grew  anxious,  looked  often  in  the  direction  of  the  door,  and 
finally  went  to  it :  it  was  locked.  Turning  to  the  attendant, 
she  said,  "  Will  you  please  open  this  door  for  me ?  "  —  "I 
cannot."  —  "  Cannot  ?  why  ?  "  —  "  I  am  not  allowed  to."  — 
"  Not  allowed  to  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  —  "  Why,  I  am 
not  allowed  to  let  patients  go  out ! "  —  "  But  I  am  not  a 
patient."  —  "  Yes,  you  are  to  stay  a  while."  —  "  No,  I  only 
came  in  as  a  visitor."  —  "But  your  husband  has  gone,  and 
left  you  ?  "  —  "  Gone,  and  left  me  ?  It  is  impossible."  —  "  No, 
it  is  not  impossible  ;  it  is  quite  true."  —  "  I  do  not  believe 
it,"  the  little  woman  said  earnestly.  "My  husband  would 
not  do  such  a  thing  by  me."  —  "  But  he  has."  —  "  I  do  not 
believe  it:' he  is  somewhere  down  stairs.  Please  let  me  go 
and  find  him."  —  "  No,  I  cannot."  The  voice  of  the  attend 
ant  was  decided.  She  turned  from  the  woman,  and  walked 
away.  Mrs.  Merrill  was  to  go  through  what  others  had 
passed,  —  the  struggle  of  resignation,  the  strife  of  passing 
from  life  to  the  grave  of  imprisonment.  The  attendant 
left  her  to  meet  this  struggle  alone  ;  and  it  seemed  to  Mrs. 
Merrill  that  she  was  alone.  It  seemed  that  her  very  senses 
would  leave  her.  One  wild  despair  surged  up  within  her. 


106  BELLA  ; 

She  trembled  as  an  aspen  leaf.  The  walls  seemed  like 
blocks  of  adamant  around  a  tomb  of  darkness,  in  which  she 
was  left.  "  I  will  not  stay  here,"  she  said  :  "  you  have  no 
right  to  keep  me."  Then  she  stationed  herself  by  the  door ; 
and,  whenever  a  key  was  inserted,  she  sprang  forward  to 
pass  through,  but  was  pushed  back,  and  held  back  till  the 
door  was  locked  again.  An  hour  or  two  passed  away  ;  then 
the  attendant  said,  "  I  cannot  bear  this ;  send  the  super 
visor  to  me."  The  supervisor  came,  and  then  the  little 
woman  found  how  truly  she  was  in  their  power.  They  took 
off  her  bonnet,  gloves,  and  shawl.  Seeing,  then,  that  she 
had  a  gold  watch  and  chain,  they  took  those  also.  Then 
they  disengaged  her  brooch,  and  drew  from  her  finger  a 
ring  set  with  diamonds.  She  had  no  power  to  resist  these 
acts.  Three  strong  girls  were  holding  her.  "  Are  you 
robbers  ?  "  she  asked.  "  What  kind  of  people  are  you  ? 
What  do  you  mean  ?  "  No  one  answered  these  questions. 
The  servants  went  away  and  left  her;  the  patients,  though 
feeling  their  hearts  leap  to  their  mouths  in  anguish,  dared 
not  utter  a  word.  Mrs.  Merrill,  thus  'disrobed,  went  about 
to  the  windows,  and  felt  of  their  iron  bars.  "  I  will  break 
the  glass,"  she  said.  "  I  will  get  out  of  here.  I  will  go 
home.  I  will  go  to  my  children."  Then  the  attendant 
sent  out  again.  This  time  a  man  came  in. 

Then  it  was  that  they  took  the  sweet  little  lady,  and  put 
upon  her  one  of  their  stfong  canvas  jackets,  and  bound 
her  down  like  a  vile  felon ;  and  there  they  held  her  till 
she  shook  like  a  reed  :  and  still  they  held  her,  "  to  take  the 
craziness  out  of  her,"  they  said.  "  I  am  sure  it  will  put 
craziness  into  her,"  thought  Bella  :  "it  almost  puts  insanity 
into  me  to  see  her.  Is  this  the  way  they  hold  people  here? 
Do  our  laws  permit  such  things  ?  Oh,  I  wish  that  people 
could  see  it !  Surely  they  would  not  permit  it." 

And  Mrs.  Long  said,  "  Another  !     How  many,  oh,  how 


OK,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  107 

many  are  to  be  immolated  here  ?  "  Mrs.  Josleyn  added, 
"  Put  thy  faith  in  Christ,  0  suffering  sister  !  " 

Mrs.  Spears,  who  had  seen  these  deeds  for  twenty-seven 
years,  arose,  and  walked  the  hall.  "Am  I  to  see  these  jack 
ets  till  death  puts  me  where  I  can  see  no  more  of  earth  ? 

0  Father  !  strengthen  me  to  bear  !  "     Then  Marion,  the 
attendant,  raised  her  voice  :  "  Silence  !  silence,  every  one  ! 

1  am  going  to  my  room  :  let  me  not  hear  another  word." 
Then    all  sounds  hushed;    and  every  woman    held  her 

bated  breath.  The  attendant  went  to  her  room.  She  had 
a  dress  there  in  process  of  making  :  her  asylum  wages  had 
bought  it;  it  was  a  silk,  with  trimmings  deep  and  rare. 
She  folded  it  about  her,  admired  its  lustrous  waves,  and 
cared  nothing  for  her  patients.  And  they  sat  in  their 
solitary  rooms,  afraid  to  speak  one  little  word.  Say,  medi 
cal  men,  wherein  does  this  course  benefit  injured  minds  ? 
And  why  do  you  allow  laws  by  which  virtuous,  innocent 
ladies  can  be  held  beneath  such  rules  ? 

When  a  few  days  had  passed,  and  Mrs.  Merrill,  weary 
with  her  first  struggling,  had  broken  down  into  quiet,  the 
superintendent  came  into  the  hall  and  sat  down.  He  lodked 
around,  talked  awhile,  and  then,  turning  to  the  lady,  he 
said,  "  Mrs.  Merrill,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

The  abruptness  of  the  question  startled  her.  It  startled 
the  other  ladies  also  :  they  were  not  used  to  hear  the  super 
intendent  speak  in  this  manner.  Evidently  he  had  forgot 
ten  his  environments,  and  for  once  was  speaking  his  natural 
mind.  Mrs.  Merrill  answered  by  asking  another  question. 

"  In  what  respect  do  you  mean,  doctor  ?  " 

"  I  mean  before  you  came  here.  What  did  you  do  ?  I 
have  watched  you  narrowly,  and  I  see  no  appearance  of 
insanity.  I  believe  your  husband  lied  about  you  ;  didn't 
he?" 

"I  do  not  know,  sir;  because  I  do  not  know  what  he  told 
you." 


108  BELLA  ; 

"  True,  true  :  you  do  not  know." 

Here  the  face  of  the  man  clouded  into  thought.  He 
seemed  to  be  recalling  what  this  lady's  husband  had  told 
him,  and  to  consider.  Then  he  repeated  one  of  his  Questions. 

«  What  did  you  do  ?  " 

"I  know  of  nothing  in  particular,  sir.  But,"  she 
blushed  as  she  added,  "  I  suppose  I  was  cross  sometimes. 
I  had  my  little  children,  and  my  family  cares;  and  I  was 
often  very  tired,  and  cross  perhaps." 

The  superintendent's  face  expressed  a  sense  of  incre 
dulity  as  he  responded,  "Well,  if  people  are  to  be  shut  into 
asylums  for  crossness,  large  numbers  would  soon  find 
themselves  inside.  I  am  not  sure  but  I  should  get  shut  in 
myself  sometimes." 

He  went  out  then,  like  a  man  who  has  said  more  than 
he  meant  to ;  and  the  ladies  looked  at  each  other  with 
meaning  smiles.  Then  Mrs.  Merrill  said,  "  I  am  sure  I 
thought  the  doctor  called  me  insane,  because  of  what  I  said, 
and  the  way  I  was  treated,  the  day  I  came  in  here." 

Bella  said,  "  I  thought  so  too.  Why  did  he  have  you 
jacketed,  if  you  are  not  insane  ?  " 

"  I  said  I  would  break  the  glass,  to  go  out,  and  go  home 
to  my  children,  you  know." 

Afterwards  Bella  overheard  the  superintendent  say  to  the 
assistant  physician,  "  Any  true,  warm-hearted  mother  might 
have  said  the  same  under  similar  circumstances.  I  do  not 
approve  of  these  deceptions  in  bringing  people  here.  I  do 
not  like  to  have  people  brought  to  my  asylum  in  such  harsh 
ways.  It  is  enough  of  itself  to  make  them  crazy.  I  do  not 
think  Mrs.  Merrill  is  insane." 

Bella  thought,  "  Why,  then,  does  he  not  publish  his 
views  ?  Why  does  he  let  the  outside  world  remain  in  igno 
rance  of  these  inside  scenes  ?  Why  does  he  not  tell  people 
that  they  must  not  deceive  these  sufferers  ?  " 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  109 

This  question  may  well  be  repeated  and  echoed  around. 
Why  do  they  not  publish  the  reports  of  the  sufferings  caused 
by  this  system  of  insane  treatment,  as  well  as  its  benefits  ? 
Why  do  superintendents  report  the  cures,  —  of  which  they 
freely  boast,  —  and  leave  unreported  the  hundreds  who  are 
brought  into  their  halls  to  undergo  the  horrors  of  the  prison- 
feeling,  and  whose  broken  minds  sink  into  greater  derange 
ment  under  coercive  discipline  ?  Let  the  public  require 
that  lunatic  asylums  report  the  sufferings  in  their  corridors, 
as  well  as  the  fair  outside  shows,  that  families  who  have  loved 
members  in  these  institutions  may  have  some  chance  to 
know  the  real  and  true  conditions  of  their  locked -up 
friends. 

The"  refrains  of  "  home,"  running  through  the  halls,  are 
endless  and  various  as  the  people  who  utter  them.  They 
are  borne  through  the  corridors  in  basso  and  soprano,  in 
chorus,  and  in  monotones  of  deepest  woe.  To  Bella,  as  to 
others,  the  place  became  as  a  bed  of  thorns,  from  which 
there  was  no  escape.  "  If  Mortimer  only  could  know,  if 
Edward  could  know,  if  my  mother  knew  how  I  suffer 
here,  I  am  sure  they  would  help  me  out.  I  will  write, 
and  tell  them  where  Frederic  has  put  me.  I  cannot  stay 
here  ;  I  will  not  stay  here." 

She  thought  she  would  not  write  as  the  other  patients 
did,  giving  their  letters  to  the  matron,  or  to  a  supervisor ; 
but  she  would  ask  the  doctor  himself  to  mail  her  letter.  She 
watched  her  opportunity;  and,  when  the  superintendent  en 
tered  her  hall,  she  went  to  him.  "Doctor,  if  I  write  a 
letter,  and  seal  it,  will  you  send  it  ?  " 

He  paused  before  her.  "  Yes,  Miss  Forresst,  I  will  send 
it  for  you.  I  have  no  wish  to  read  your  letters.  This  rule 
is  only  for  those  who  are  not  competent  to  write." 

"  Thanks,  doctor,"  said  the  girl,  as  smiles  deepened  on 
her  cheeks. »  She  went  to  her  room.  Happiness  stole  into 
10 


110  BELLA  ; 

her  heart.  "I  am  so  glad  I  asked  him,"  she  thought. 
"  How  much  better  it  is  to  go  to  him  direct !  " 

She  wrote  then  to  Edward,  and  with  her  own  hands  put 
the  letter  into  the  superintendent's  hand.  He  smiled  upon 
her  with  gracious  kindness ;  and  she  saw  in  his  smiles  an 
augury  of  freedom.  She  counted  the  days  she  would  most 
likely  have  to  wait  for  return  letters,  and  nerved  herself  to 
bear  them.  That  night  her  sleep  was  sweet ;  and  the  next 
morning  the  hospital  hash  slipped  down  almost  without  a 
thought  of  its  coarse  qualities. 

She  had  not  a  nature  that  could  become  absorbed  in  her 
own  sorrows,  unmindful  of  others  ;  and  she  became  deeply 
interested  in  the  women  who  were  her  fellow-prisoners. 
She  watched  the  coming  and  going  of  their  friends,  searched 
into  the  causes  of  these  unnatural  incarcerations,  and  in 
quired,  "W7iy  are  such  things  tolerated?"  She  found  the 
causes  as  various  as  the  people.  Some  were  imprisoned 
because  they  were  invalids,  and  their  friends  didn't  feel  like 
being  troubled  with  them ;  some  because  they  were  wealthy, 
and  their  guardians  and  relatives  could  thus  keep  their  for 
tunes  for  themselves,  while  the  rightful  owners  lived  hidden ; 
some  were  there  from  poverty,  their  friends  calling  them 
insane,  and  throwing  them  on  to  the  State  :  but  by  far  the 
larger  part  were  people  whose  friends  were  true  and  sincere, 
and  brought  their  dear  ones  here  by  advice  of  physicians. 
Families  work  and  plan  to  save  money  to  pay  for  their  in 
valid  friends  in  these  halls ;  and  the  sick  people  stay  in 
them  under  privations  that  might  make  them  ill,  even  if 
carried  into  them  in  perfect  health.  Outside  doctors,  too 
ignorant  to  cure  their  patients,  banish  them  to  these  popu 
lar  houses,  and  thus  relieve  themselves,  and  hide  their  own 
stupidity ;  inside  doctors  pocket  the  money  and  the  honors. 

The  lives  of  asylum  patients  are  full  of  aggravations  and 
disagreeable  scenes.  Bella,  like  others,  found. them  hard 


OR,  THE  CKADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  Ill 

to  bear.  One  of  these  trials  was  in  the  passing  and  re-pass 
ing  of  visitors.  People  go  through  asylums  as  through  a 
solemn  show,  —  walking  with  heads  straight  forward,  but 
casting  their  eyes  to  the  right  and  left  mysteriously,'  as 
though  there  was  some  unearthly  inyster}'-  in  the  place  and 
people  there. 

"  I  suppose  visitors  think  we  are  wild  animals,"  said  a 
lady  to  Bella. 

"  I  turn  away  from  them,"  Bella  answered.  "  I  cannot 
bear  that  they  should  see  my  face." 

"  Just  so  do  I,"  responded  a  third.  And  this  is  what 
thousands  do,  and  what  thousands  will  continue  to  do,  if 
the  system  continues  to  exist.  Patients  cannot  bear  to  be 
living  as  in  the  cages  of  a  menagerie,  the  objects  of  public 
curiosity.  Mrs.  Whitney  says,  "A  man  might  be  a  little 
crazy  even,  and  get  over  it,  if  he  never  had  it  to  think  that 
other  people  knew  or  mistrusted." 

This  is  true  of  immense  numbers  of  our  modern  insane 
people.  Their  insanity  is  often  a  mere  nervous  derange 
ment,  or  a  temporary  illness,  resting  on  a  cause  which  ad 
mits  of  cure,  like  other  diseases.  Home-kindness,  supported 
and  guided  by  the  discretion  of  good  home  physicians,  would 
be  far  more  sensible  and  successful  than  crowding  people 
into  halls  under  strictures  that  drive  thousands  into  chronic 
misery,  and  hold  them  then  as  public  shows.  People 
never  recover  fully  from  the  shocks  their  sensibilities  receive 
in  the  transportations  to  asylums,  and  the  treatment  they 
see  and  receive  while  there.  They  feel  that  an  ignominy 
is  attached  to  them.  It  ought  not  so  to  be.  There  is  no 
disgrace  in  insanity.  It  is  a  disease  more  likely  to  fall  upon 
high-toned  minds  than  upon  those  of  rude  construction. 
Therefore  in  cultivated  communities,  where  mind  is  brought 
out  in  all  possible  tension,  people  are  more  likely  to  become 
insane,  and  are  only  saved  from  this  and  other  diseases  by 


112  BELLA  ; 

care  that  their  physical  developments  and  health  shall  keep 
pace  with  the  mental.  For  this  reason  we  have  more  insane 
persons  in  the  more  intelligent  portions  of  our  country. 
Where  the  climate  is  a  test  to  strength,  and  the  cultivation 
of  bodily  health  receives  less  attention  than  education  of 
the  mind,  we  must  expect  diseases  of  all  kinds.  The  most 
delicate,  refined,  and  sensitive  people  fall  first.  Are  we  to 
go  on  building  asylums,  or  endowing  the  present  ones,  and 
continue  to  confine  our  people  as  outcast  lepers,  shut  apart  ? 
Common  sense,  humanity,  and  God  forbid  ! 

Life  in  cells  is  a  midnight  life.  It  is  the  opponent  of 
light,  and  the  opposite  of  nature.  It  feeds  souls  on  dark 
ness.  There  is  neither  life  nor  strength  to  be  gained  in  its 
existence. 

But  asylum  advocates  will  ask,  How,  then,  do  people  get 
well  in  asylums  ?  , 

The  answer  may  be  given  in  the  words  of  an  asylum 
physician,  who,  by  virtue  of  his  office,  should  be  good 
authorit}^.  A  lady,  who  had  been  a  week  or  two  under 
this  treatment,  was  looking  about  to  discover  what  was  to 
cure  her.  She  said  to  the  physician,  "  Doctor,  do  you  cure 
people  here  ?" 

"  They  get  well  here,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What  cures  them  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  time  and  nature." 

This  answer  was  the  text  for  many  after-thoughts. 
When  the  lady  had  been  there  longer,  she  saw,  herself,  that 
those  who  were  cured  were  indeed  restored  by  these  two 
agents :  those  whom  these  agents  alone  could  not  cure 
went  down,  and  became  patients  for  life.  The  lady  said, 
"If  time  and  nature,  working  against  all  these  antago 
nisms,  can  effect  cures,  what  could  they  not  accomplish  out 
side,  if  judicious  help  were  given  themj  for  time  is  as 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  113 

long  outside  as  in,  and  nature  is  scarce  found  within  these 
walls  ?  " 

"  To  know  what  patients  suffer,  we  must  live  as  patients 
live." 

This  was  what  Jessonica  said  to  Bella,  as  they  sat  side 
by  side  in  a  chapel  sociable.  They  were  strangers,  from 
different  States.  They  were  patients  in  different  halls,  and 
had  not  met  until  now,  as  they  chanced  to  be  seated  to 
gether,  and  felt  touched  by  a  mutual  sympathy. 

Bella  replied,  "I  have  passed  through  vicissitudes;  but 
the  convent  and  the  Shakers  were  paradise  compared  to 
this  place  ;  and  the  teacher  of  the  idiot's  school  was  a  queen, 
for  she  had  a  heart.  I  wish  I  could  find  a  heart  among 
the  overseers  of  this  place." 

"  They  think  they  have  hearts,"  Jessonica  replied. 
"  They  talk  about  Christian  kindness  and  benevolence,  and 
doing  good." 

"  I  know,"  said  Bella,  "  that  it  is  wrong  and  hard  to  judge ; 
but,  to  me,  their  hearts  seem  like  those  of  fat  oxen,  who, 
feeding  and  dwelling  in  rich  pastures  themselves,  have 
no  thought  for  the  sufferings  of  others." 

Jessonica  lifted  her  dove-like  eyes  to  Bella's  flashing 
face,  and  softly  said,  "  You  are  right,  Miss  Forresst." 

And,  though  such  judgment  may  seem  bitter,  we,  too,  are 
compelled  to  say,  Miss  Forresst  is  right.  Observation  and 
experience  of  life  in  these  halls  compel  us  to  believe  that 
the  nature  of  the  system  tends  to  take  humanity  out  of  the 
hearts  of  those  who  rule  within. 

Often  the  nurses,  keepers,  servants,  attendants,  and  phy 
sicians  even,  are  totally  incapable  of  measuring  or  com 
prehending  the  mental  requirements  of  their  patients  ;  yet 
they  rule  them  with  absolute  power;  and  there  is  no  pos 
sible  way  for  the  patients  to  escape. 
10* 


114  BELLA  ; 

The  question  is  not,  and  must  not  be,  Are  these  people 
insane  ?  Are  they  crazy  ?  but,  Is  this  the  way  to  cure 
them?  Will  this  "treatment"  restore  them  to  mental 
health,  or  will  it  take  away  what  mind  they  have  left,  and 
tend  to  make  them  more  insane  ? 


OB,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  115 


CHAPTER  XII. 

is  a  general  impression  in  society  that  asy 
lum  doctors  possess  some  peculiar  power  over  minds 
diseased,  and  that  the  patients  are  under  the  doctors. 
The  truth  is,  that  asylum  doctors  are  like  other 
physicians :  they  use  the  same  medical  works, 
have  passed  through  the  same  course  of  study,  and  practise 
on  the  same  theories.  The  only  difference  is,  that  they 
work  within  the  circumference  of  locks  and  keys,  claiming 
legal  statutes  as  supports.  Some  of  them  may  be  more  in 
telligent  and  humane  than  others  ;  and  therefore  some  asy 
lums  may  be  better  governed  than  others  :  but  the  under 
lying-principles  of  all  locked  asylums  are  the  same. 

The  physicians  of  asylums  can  be  but  very  little  with 
their  patients.  Among  five  or  six  hundred  persons,  the 
doctors  can  take  but  cursory  glances  at  each  one.  The 
common,  daily  life  of  the  patients  falls  under  the  attend- 
dants  of  the  halls.  And  who  are  the  attendants?  They 
are  persons  who  come  for  hire,  —  to  earn  money.  They 
are  hired  nurses,  or  hired  servants,  as  you  please  to  call 
them.  They  come  from  everywhere,  —  from  rural  districts 
where  money  is  scarce,  and  from  service  where  wages  were 
too  low  for  them.  They  are  mostly  young,  have  a  com 
mon-school  education,  and  no  more.  They  have  no  ac 
curate  knowledge  of  the  human  system,  —  its  wants  or  re 
quirements,  or  of  insanity,  scientifically  considered.  They 
have  a  general  idea  that  crazy  people  are  to  be  kept  shut  up, 


116  BELLA  ; 

and  managed  somehow,  it  matters  little  how.  Keys  are 
put  into  their  hands :  they  are  told  to  keep  the  doors 
locked;  and  they  do  it.  Power  over  the  patients  is  given 
them  ;  and  they  use  it  according  to  their  natures  and  tem 
peraments.  They  earn  their  money,  and  spend  it  for  dress, 
or  go  home  and  get  married  with  it ;  while  a  fresh  set  come, 
to  rule  the  patients,  and  go  through  the  same  routine  as 
their  predecessors.  Under  these  ignorant  comers  and  goers 
the  patients  live. 

Men,  under  great  mental  sufferings,  have  been  known  to 
grow  gray  in  a  single  night.  When  prisoners  they  grow 
gray  by  continual  disciplinary  anguish.  The  constant  go 
ing  out  of  hopes,  the  dying  of  ambitions,  the  sundering  of 
all  former  ties,  the  gradual  extinction  of  all  outward  wishes, 
and  the  constant  submission  to  the  personal  power  of  the 
keepers,  give  to  prisoners  a  peculiar  misery,  found  under 
no  other  circumstances.  All  these  prison  miseries  are 
found  in  asylums.  The  lives  of  patients  are  lives  of  ab 
solute  bondage,  in  which  bondage  they  see  no  avenue  of 
hope  nor  path  to  liberty,  —  not  even  by  serving  a  term  of 
years  as  criminals  in  durance.  With  this  life-imprison 
ment  staring  them  in  the  face,  is  it  strange  that  they  grow 
haggard,  wild,  or  imbecile  ? 

Patients  are  commonly  told  that  they  shall  stay  a  few 
weeks,  and  then  are  held  for  years,  till  life  becomes  one 
prolonged  suspense  and  agony,  in  which  they  are  fitted  for 
neither  earth  nor  heaven.  Is  it  supposed  that  they  are 
not  sensible  of  their  situations  ?  We  answer,  they  are 
most  acutely  sensible  of  their  sufferings,  and,  being  ill  in 
mind,  are  less  able  to  rise  above  these  depressing  asylum 
influences  than  if  in  health. 

And  this  system  is  assigned  by  our  physicians  as  a  cure 
for  broken  nerves  and  demented  wits.  Shade  of  Esculapiuf 
save  us ! 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  117 

Living  every  day  amid  these  scenes,  seeing  suffering  con 
stantly  around  her,  Bella  grew  dispirited,  and  looked  more 
and  more  earnestly  for  replies  to  her  letters.  Encouraged 
by  the  superintendent's  gracious  smiles,  and  trusting  his 
apparent  candor,  she  had  written  several  letters ;  and  the 
superintendent  took  them  himself.  But  time  passed,  and 
no  replies  came.  She  grew  disheartened.  "  What  does  it 
mean  ?  Have  Edward  and  Mortimer  forgotten  me  ?  Or 
do  they  think  I  am  crazy,  and  so  will  not  write?" 

This  last  was  a  horrible  idea,  and  it  wore  upon  her.  She 
grew  listless  and  pale.  The  ladies  said,"  You  are  not  well, 
Miss  Forresst." 

"  If  I  could  only  have  some  letters,  —  even  one,"  she  re 
plied.  "  But  my  friends  seem  to  have  deserted  me  :  they 
have  ceased  to  care  for  me." 

Confidentially,  stealthily,  some  of  the  ladies  said,  "  Prob-> 
ably  your  letters  do  not  go." 

"  Not  go  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Why,  the  doctor  himself 
took  them,  and  told  me  he  would  send  them  unread  ! " 

"  And  you  believed  him  ?  " 

«  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  said  one  of  the  women,  "  when 
you  have  been  here  longer,  and  have  become  versed  in  the 
strategies  of  the  place,  you  will  learn  that  one  of  the  com 
mandments  has  a  qualification.  It  is  written,  'Thou  shalt 
not  lie,  except  to  insane  patients.'  You  see,  therefore, 
that  the  doctor  did  not  sin.  Falsehoods  to  us  are  justifi 
able." 

"  It  is  a  terrible  place,"  Bella  said  solemnly.  "  A  system 
that  depends  on  falsehood,  and  sanctions  it,  must  be  shaky 
somewhere,  and  should  be  destroyed." 

"  I  would  to  God  it  might  shake  to  the  ground,"  re 
marked  a  woman  near. 

"  Amen  ! "  said  another. 


118  BELLA  ; 

"  Go  to  your  rooms !  "  shouted  Marion.  She  had  been 
attracted  b}^  the  voices,  and  had  come  near  enough  to  hear. 

They  separated,  and  went  to  their  solitary  cells ;  but, 
though  free  speech  was  denied,  thoughts  were,  irrepressible. 

"  I  am  on  my  own  native  soil,  surrounded  by  the  air  of 
my  own  Massachusetts,"  mused  Bella  as  she  paced  back 
and  forth  in  her  solitude;  "yet  I  am  a  prisoner,  held  by 
bonds,  and  forbidden  either  to  write  or  speak  of  my  situa 
tion  !  By  what  right  does  any  one  thus  hold  me  ?  By 
what  right  do  our  States  permit  laws  that  can  be  used 
for  such  base  purposes  ?  " 

She  looked  through  her  iron-barred  window,  and  it 
seemed  that  the  air  was  not  that  of  America.  "My 
country's  air  has  no  smouldering  taint  of  prison  belonging 
to  it,"  she  said. 

Now  the  time  became  more  tedious.  She  had  lost  faith 
in  the  superintendent.  He  passed  her  often,  and  bowed 
with  smiles ;  but  she  saw  hollowness  in  the  smiles,  and 
they  seemed  as  veneering,  put  on  for  show.  She  began  to 
look  for  some  other  way  to  send  a  letter.  Her  soul  was 
sick  with  her  situation.  It  seemed  to  her  that  there  must 
be  some  way  by  which  to  transmit  truthful  intelligence  of 
herself.  Then  she  ceased  hiding  her  face  from  visitors, 
and  began  searching  their  countenances,  to  find  one  whom 
she  dared  ask  to  take  one  little  missive  from  her  hand. 
But  they  all  looked  solemn,  and  were  closely  under  the 
escort  of  the  officials ;  and  she  had  no  courage  to  ask  them. 
Indeed,  her  courage  and  faith  began  to  fail.  She  went 
privately  to  Mrs.  Long. 

"Do  tell  me,  Mrs.  Long,"  she  said,  "is  there  no  way  to 
get  a  truthful  letter  out  of  this  institution  ?  " 

The  lady  patient  looked  up  quickly.  Her  blue  eyes 
dilated,  and  her  oval  forehead  seemed  to  rise  in  thought. 
"Miss  Forresst,"  she  said,  "I  should  as  soon  think  of 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  119 

running  a  gauntlet  of  trained  watchmen  as  to  send  a  letter 
from  here  unless  every  word  pleased  the  officials." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  asked  Bella  in  tones  of  distress. 
"How  can  I  stay  here  in  this  dead  way,  with  no  communi 
cation  with  the  outer  world,  or  knowledge  of  my  friends  ? 
It  will  make  me  crazy." 

Mrs.  Long  thought  a  moment.  Then  she  said,  "My 
husband  is  coming  to  see  me  in  a  few  days.  If  you  will 
write,  and  have  your  letter  ready,  I  will  ask  him  to  take  it." 

"Thanks,  Mrs.  Long,  thanks.  I  cannot  express  my 
gratitude.  You  have  raised  me  from  despair." 

Then  once  more  she  wrote ;  and,  because  she  felt  that 
the  other  letters  had  not  gone,  she  recapitulated  what  she 
had  written  before,  and  explained  her  circumstances  in 
full.  She  put  the  letter  in  an  envelope,  addressed  it,  and 
waited.  Mrs.  Long  was  not  certain  what  day  her  husband 
would  come. 

Well,  people  get  used  to  waiting,  if  they  are  patients  in 
asylums.  They  are  always  waiting  for  this,  or  for  that,  or 
some  other  thing.  Everybody  and  every  thing  must 
be  attended  to  before  "  patients."  If  other  people  are  to 
wait  for  any  thing,  they  find  it  easier  to  know  it ;  but 
patients  are  seldom  told.  They  are  moved  from  room  to 
room,  taken  out  and  put  in,  and  otherwise  managed, 
without  one  note  of  warning. 

And  these  two  imprisoned  women  waited,  the  one  for 
her  husband,  the  other  for  the  man  who  would  help  her 
seek  relief  from  those  who  loved  her  in  the  outer  world. 

At  last  Mr.  Long  came.  A  fine-looking  man  he  was, 
with  black  hair  clustering  over  his  head,  and  black  eyes 
glancing  sharply  at  whatever  he  met.  Very  fond  of  his 
blue-eyed  wife  he  appeared  to  be ;  but  he  was  a  man  of 
legal  statutes.  He  believed  in  law  as  laid  down  by  govern 
ment.  Break  a  statute  law  ?  No.  The  laws  of  mercy  he 


120  BELLA  ; 

might  break,  but  not  statutes  of  men.     Before  he  left,  his 
wife  asked  him  to  take  out  Miss  Forresst's  letter. 

"What!"  lie  exclaimed,  "shall  I  come  in  here  and 
violate  the  rules  of  the  institution  ?  Shall  I  bring  you 
here  to  be  cured,  and  then  break  the  rules  of  the  place  ?  " 

"  They  are  very  unjust  rules,"  the  lady  pleaded.  "  You 
do  not  realize  how  hard  it  is,  nor  how  much  we  have  to 
bear,  shut  in  here  without  privileges  of  any  kind." 

"  But  there  is  a  medical  necessity,  my  dear." 

"  There  is  a  medical  absurdity,  you  mean,"  she  replied. 
"  If  you  should  stay  here  as  a  patient,  as  I  do,  you  would 
see  this  system  in  a  very  different  light.  You  would  see 
that  it  is  worse  than  absurdity :  it  is  wickedness,  especi 
ally  when  people  are  sane,  like  Miss  Forresst." 

"  Who  is  this  Miss  Forresst  ?  " 

"  She  is  the  girl  whose  letter  I  want  you  to  take  out." 

"  Yes ;  but  who  is  she  ?     Where  does  she  belong  ?  " 

"She  is  sister  to  Mrs.  Boynton,  and  to  Mr.  Frederic 
Forresst." 

"  Frederic  Forresst !  Why,  he  is  one  of  our  finest  men  ! 
If  he  has  put  his  sister  in  here,  he  had  good  cause.  No, 
pet :  we  will  keep  clear  of  other  people's  business.  It  is 
enough  for  us  to  take  care  of  ourselves." 

Earnestly  the  lady  pleaded,  but  without  avail.  The 
lawyer  was  decided.  He  had  chosen  his  side,  and  it  was 
the  side  of  power.  She  gave  up  pleading  at  last,  and 
asked  when  she  was  to  go  home,  adding,  "  I  cannot  see 
the  least  good  they  do  me  here." 

The  lawj'er  put  on  a  look  of  ponderous  gravity,  and 
softly  stroked  the  hair  of  his  fair  wife,  saying,  "Perhaps 
you  are  not  the  best  judge,  my  dear.  The  doctor  tells  me 
you  are  doing  very  well." 

"  Doing  very  well,  am  I  ?  That  is  an  old  stereotyped 
phrase  that  the  doctor  keeps  on  hand  to  use  on  the  friends 


OR,  THE   CKADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  121 

of  the  patients  when  he  sees  fit.  You  stopped  in  the 
office,  and  he  spread  it  on  to  you." 

"  But  are  you  not  doing  well  my  dear?" 

"  I  am  trying  to  keep  patient,  and  endure  this  life  till 
you  take  me  out.  Do  let  it  be  soon,  please.  I  shall  get 
better  in  time,  whether  I  am  here  or  away.  You  must 
let  me  recover  slowly.  You  did  not  bring  me  here  to 
remain  a  prisoner  forever,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  How  can  you  think  so  ?  I  shall  take 
you  away  as  soon  as  you  are  better." 

"0  my  husband  !  don't  wait  till  these  doctors  say  I  am 
better.  I  see  a  great  deal  of  deception  here ;  and  it  is  for 
their  interest  to  keep  me.  You  pay  them  as  much  as 
twenty  dollars  a  week,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  tut,  pet !  The  money  is  of  no  account,  if  they  can 
cure  you. 

She  talked  longer,  —  pleaded  and  argued;  but  Mr.  Long 
had,  as  she  thought,  been  in  the  office  before  he  came  up 
to  his  wife.  He  was  there  fortified  against  all  she  could 
say.  He  was  a  good  customer,  paying  his  twenty  dollars 
a  week,  that  his  wife  might  have  extras ;  while  she-  was 
taking  such  as  she  could  get.  Such  a  customer  was  worth 
keeping;  and  they  had,  as  Mrs.  Long  said,  "spread  their 
story  well"  for  him  in  the  office.  He  went  away  in  the 
full  confidence  that  they  were  right,  and  she  was  wrong. 
She  kept  by  his  side  till  he  reached  the  main  hall  door. 
Marion  followed  with  the  keys.  The  door  was  unlocked : 
he  put  his  foot  on  the  threshold.  She  clung  to  him, 
wept,  begged,  pleaded.  "  Do  let  me  go !  0  my  husband  ! 
do  let  me  go  with  you !  I  cannot  stay  here  without  you. 
This  life  will  wear  me  out ! "  Then  she  kissed  him,  and 
hung  upon  his  shoulder.  He  was  touched,  for  he  loved 
his  wife  ;  and  the  arguments  of  the  asylum  office  were  fading 
from  his  mind,  when  there  appeared  a  supervisor.  Super- 
11 


122  BELLA  ; 

visors  are  a  middle  class  of  officials,  between  the  physicians 
and  attendants,  and  are  most  efficient  helpers  to  the 
asylum.  They  are  generally  ready  for  any  thing,  and  can 
strap  the  patients,  starve  them,  or  lock  them  up,  with  equal 
ease.  This  supervisor,  a  tall,  strong  woman,  saw  the  situa 
tion  at  a  glance.  She  stepped  into  the  doorway,  and  put 
her  hand  upon  Mrs.  Long's  hand,  saying,  "  Come,  you  are 
behaving  very  queerly.  If  you  do  so,  your  husband  will 
never  think  you  fit  to  go.  You  should  use  reason,  and 
show  him  that  you  are  better,  instead  of  worse." 

Mrs.  Long  raised  her  face,  and  said,  "  Do  you  know  what 
it  is  to  part  from  the  love  of  your  life  ?  Did  you  ever 
love?" 

The  question  was  unfortunate,  since  the  supervisor  was 
a  maiden  of  uncertain  age.  She  took  the  patient  by  the 
arm ;  and,  though  the  action  was  not  apparent,  she  gave  it 
a  grip  that  sent  the  blood  curdling  through  Mrs.  Long's 
veins,  and  pushed  her  back  into  Marion's  hands.  Then, 
with  a  dexterous  movement,  she  drew  Mr.  Long  through  the 
doorway,  and  turned  the  key.  There  was  one  loud  cry 
within ;  then  all  was  still.  Mr.  Long  paused  to  listen  ;  but 
the  supervisor  hurried  him  along,  and  keys  held  the  im 
prisoned  woman. 

"  She  will  be  right  again  in  a  moment,"  the  supervisor 
said,  with  oily  tongue.  "  It  is  not  uncommon  for  patients 
to  make  trouble  when  their  friends  go  away ;  but  they  soon 
get  over  it.  I  am  sorry  you  should  be  incommoded,  sir." 

She  took  Mr.  Long  down  stairs ;  and  he  went  into  the 
office  again.  There  he  was  again  assured  that  she  would 
soon  be  "  all  right ; "  that  such  manifestations  were  not 
uncommon  in  patients,  and  that  it  might  be  as  well  for  him 
not  to  come  again  very  soon.  "  Give  her  time  to  recuper 
ate,"  said  the  bland  superintendent.  "Seeing  you  and  her 
friends  excites  her,  and  puts  her  back.  These  cases  are 
very  hard,  sir :  life  is  full  of  troubles." 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  123 

Mr.  Long  is  a  good  lawyer;  but  he  was  "taken  in  "  that 
time  by  a  doctor.  He  went  home.  She  went  into  her  cell, 
the  walls  of  which  seemed  like  fortress- walls,  hiding  her 
from  hope  forever.  She  fell  on  her  knees,  and  cried,  "  If  an 
enemy  had  done  this,  I  could  bear  it ;  but  to  think  that  the 
doctors  turn  my  own  husband  against  me  is  too  much, 
too  much  !"  She  had  a  fit  that  night.  The  asylum  gave 
her  fit  a  medical  name  ;  but  those  who  had  themselves  borne 
the  tension  of  just  such  shocks  knew  that  she  had  an 
"  asylum  fit "  or  "  prison  fit,"  whichever  we  call  it.  The 
terms  are  identical. 

Only  the  rational,  strong-nerved,  and  healthy  can  bear 
such  fearful  isolation.  The  weak-nerved,  the  delicate,  the 
broken-minded,  the  insane,  should  never  be  required  to  pass 
through  such  trials. 

Bella  did  not  speak  of  her  letter  that  night.  She  could 
not  mention  her  own  troubles,  she  was  so  affected  by  seeing 
the  condition  of  the  woman  she  had  learned  to  love.  They 
took  Mrs.  Long  back  to  her  room  ;  and  Marion  scolded  her 
for  causing  so  much  trouble.  For  a  long  time  Mrs. 
Long  sat  and  wept.  Her  arm  ached,  and  her  heart 
ached.  She  felt  that  she  had  been  unkindly  treated,  that 
her  husband  believed  the  asylum  representations,  and  that 
there  was  little  chance  for  her  to  get  release.  After  a 
time  she  drew  up  her  sleeve,  and  looked  at  her  arm  :  it  was 
blue-black  and  swollen.  She  felt  indignant  and  insulted. 
She  went  out  into  the  hall,  and  walked  rapidly  up  and 
down.  It  seemed  that  she  must  do  something  to  allay  the 
agitation  of  her  mind.  Bella  came  into  the  hall,  and  joined 
her.  They  walked  arm  in  arm,  talking  of  their  troubles. 
Just  then  the  supervisor  came  in  again ;  and  her  instincts  told 
her  that  they  were  talking  of  her.  She  approached  Mrs. 
Long,  and  began,  "Ain't  you  ashamed,  making  such  a  piece 
of  work  when  your  husband  went  away  ?  I  shouldn't  think 
he'd  ever  want  you,  —  such  an  acting  person  as  you  are." 


124  BELLA  ; 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Mrs.  Long  resolutely.  "  I  want  you  t^ 
see  what  you  did  to  my  arm  ; "  and  she  began  pulling  up 
her  sleeve.  The  arm  was  swollen,  and  the  sleeve  of  a  deli 
cate  fabric.  It  tore  a  little.  "  That  will  do,"  said  the 
supervisor.  "You  needn't  go  to  tearing  your  clothes  in 
your  craziness.  Marion,  lock  this  woman  into  her  room.  I 
will  help  you." 

They  took  hold  of  her,  and  led  her  away  into  her  room : 
they  locked  her  door,  and  left  her  there.  "  If  she  causes 
you  any  trouble,  Marion,  let  me  know ;  and  I  will  bring  a 
jacket."  These  were  the  last  words  of  the  supervisor  as 
she  locked  the  door  and  went  out. 

Nothing  more  was  heard  from  Mrs.  Long  that  night :  no 
sound  came  from  her  room.  The  next  morning,  when  the 
attendant  unlocked  the  door,  Mrs.  Long  was  lying  on  the 
floor,  stiff  and  cold.  It  required  all  the  arts  of  the  physi 
cians  to  restore  her.  They  said  she  had  a  paralytic  shock. 
We,  who  have  escaped  asylum  fits  only  by  the  strength  of 
our  natures,  know  that  she  had  a  prison  or  asylum  fit. 

When  Bella  learned  that  her  letter  had  not  gone,  she  was 
grieved.  "  Everybody  favors  the  institution,  and  presses 
us,"  she  thought.  "  Is  there  no  way  out  of  this  place  ?  " 

She  was  in  the  bath-room ;  and  Sarah  Tollman,  a  patient 
of  several  years,  was  there  with  her.  Sarah  said,  "  I  will 
mail  your  letter,  Miss  Forresst." 

"  You  !     How  can  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  drop  it  in  the  street-box  the  next  time  we  walk 
out.  Such  things  have  been  done  here ;  and  I  can  do  it." 

"  But  Miss  Smiley  has  Argus  eyes.  She  puts  us  all  in 
front  of  her,  and  watches  every  motion." 

"  I  know  it ;  but  I  have  been  here  a  great  many  years. 
I  have  learned  all  their  ways.  I  am  very  submissive  ;  and 
I  can  take  privileges.'  If  you  will  engross  her  in  conversa 
tion,  and  take  her  attention,  I  will  fall  behind,  and  get  the 
letter  into  a  box." 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  125 

Hope  came  again  to  Bella;  and  she  readily  agreed  to 
this  plan. 

The  next  morning  the  walking  attendant  came  in,  and 
made  the  announcement,  "  This  hall  goes  to  walk."  Then 
Marion  went  around,  and  selected  such  as  might  go ;  and 
Bella  and  Miss  Tollman  were  of  the  number.  They  well 
remembered  their  agreement,  and  went  out  with  little  nods 
to  each  other.  The  procession  was  arranged,  and  moved 
on.  Bella  stationed  herself  beside  Miss  Smiley,  and  began 
talking  as  joyously  as  though  a  world  of  happiness  was  all 
her  own.  No  one  noticed  Miss  Tollman's  tardy  move 
ments,  nor  how  she  fell  back ;  nor  was  she  noticed  when 
she  finally  fell  behind  Miss  Smiley  herself.  Bella  did  not 
look  around;  but  she  felt  that  the  plan  would  be  a  success. 
They  neared  a  corner,  and  Bella's  heart  beat ;  but  she  only 
talked  the  faster,  and  kept  Miss  Smiley  interested.  They 
turned  the  corner;  and  Miss  Tollman  glided  softly  towards 
the  box.  Was  it  her  shadow,  or  what  was  it  that  drew  the 
attention  of  a  woman  in  front  ?  Why  must  there  be  a 
traitor  in  every  company?  One  would  have  supposed  that 
Julia  Warren  had  suffered  enough  in  that  institution  to 
lead  her  to  help  one  of  her  fellow-prisoners  ;  but  she  it  was 
who  turned  her  head,  and  raised  the  warning  scream. " 

Miss  Smiley  sprang,  and  pounced  upon  Miss  Tollman. 
"  What  are  you  doing  ?  Give  me  that  letter !  "  and  she 
grasped  the  small  hand  of  Miss  Tollman. 

But  the  patient  was  firm,  and  held  the  letter  in  a  tight 
grip.  The  attendant  succeeded  only  in  getting  a  glimpse 
of  the  address,  —  "  Forresst,"  she  said.  "  Ah,  yes !  I  un 
derstand  why  Miss  Forresst  was  so  fond  of  my  company. 
You  have  a  conspiracy.  We  will  go  back  to  the  asylum." 

She  turned  the  company  then,  and  headed  them  towards 
the  asylum.     She  hurried  them  back,  and  let  them  into  the 
hall.     Then  she  went  to  make  her  report. 
11* 


126  BELLA  ; 

There  had  been  several  recent  attempts  to  smuggle  out 
letters.  Two  or  three  of  these  had  succeeded  ;  and  a  patient 
had  just  been  taken  away  by  her  friends,  in  consequence. 
The  authorities  felt  tender ;  and  this  new  attempt  increased 
their  irritation.  There  must  be  a  stop  to  these  secret  mail 
ings.  The  face  of  the  assistant  physician  clouded. 

Then  these  words  went  ringing  through  the  halls, 
"  Whoever  is  caught  mailing  a  letter  contrary  to  our  rules 
shall  be  jacketed  and  strapped!" 

Who,  in  free  life,  can  understand  the  quiet  terror  that 
followed  this  announcement  ?  No  person  who  has  always 
been  free  can  judge  of  a  patient's  feelings,  nor  realize  how 
the  mandates  of  such  a  place  fall  crushingly  upon  the  help 
less  people  within.  The  world  knows  nothing  of  the  unut 
terable  and  inexpressible  throes  of  those  who  are  held 
beneath  these  bonds.  It  is  no  wonder  that  they  wail,  and 
that  their  hearts  cry  out  in  anguish.  It  is  no  wonder  that 
they  call  for  friends  and  freedom  and  home.  "  Home ! " 
"  Home !"  How  often  is  the  name  heard  in  those  galleries 
and  halls!  "  Shall  I  never  go  home?"  "Shall  I  never, 
never  again  be  free  ? "  "  Must  I  always  stay  in  these 
halls  ?  "  "  Am  I  never  again  to  live  with  those  I  love  ?  " 
"  Have  I  no  friend  to  take  me  from  this  place  ?  "  "  Doc 
tor,  when  shall  I  go  home?"  "Doctor,  I  am  homesick. 
I  am  tired  of  this  life."  "  Doctor,  I  want  to  see  my  hus 
band."  "  Doctor,  write  for  me.  I  want  to  see  my  chil 
dren."  "  Do  let  me  go  out  of  here.  Oh,  do  let  me  go 
out !  "  "  What  right  has  any  one  to  keep  me  here  ?  God 
never  gave  any  one  a  right  to  keep  me  here  in  prison. 
Neither  father  nor  mother,  wife  nor  child,  has  any  right  to 
imprison  me  thus."  "  These  asylums  are  blots  on  civiliza 
tion,  —  dark  spots  in  the  midst  of  light."  "  I  shall  go  out 
of  here ;  God  will  take  me  out ;  but  I  do  not  know  what 
chastisements  will  first  come  upon  our  country."  Then 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  127 

chiming  in 'are  foreign  accents.  "Och  !  Let  me  go  home  to 
me  childers.  Home,  home  !  "  says  the  Irish  woman. 

Such  are  the  cries  constantly  running  through  asylum 
halls,  —  at  least  in  the  women's  departments.  How  is  it 
with  the  men  ? 

There  are  other  waits,  —  deeper,  darker  expressions. 
The  pen  refuses  to  trace  them.  The  public  would  refuse  to 
read  them.  Yet  that  same  public  puts  its  most  delicate 
people  into  the  midst  of  these  discordant  sounds,  where 
they  must  listen  day  and  night  to  fearful  words.  Mis 
taken  public !  Who  shall  enlighten  thy  great  mind  ? 


128  BELLA  j 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

OKN1NG-  dawned.     It  was  morning  in  the  asylum. 
But  what  is  morning  there? 
Click,  click,  click. 

Did  you  ever  hear  it,  reader  ?     It  is  the  sound 
of  the  key,  as  it  goes  from  door  to  door. 

Click,  click,  click,  click,  click  ! 

Every  morning,  when  the  East  is  flooded  with  her  beau 
tiful  light,  the  patients  hear  that  sound.  Every  night, 
ere  slumber  comes  to  lave  their  brows,  the  pent-up  people 
hear  that  sound.  From  door  to  door  the  attendants  go. 
When  they  turn,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  may  leave  their 
cells  ;  and,  when  they  turn,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  may 
go  in  again.  This  system  is  for  the  cure  of  broken 
minds ! 

"  To  live  in  this  way  is  enough  to  make  one  crazy,"  says 
a  patient. 

"  Hush  ! "  cry  the  medical  faculty.  "  This  is  the  way  we 
have  appointed  for  your  cure." 

0  wise  medical  faculty !  The  remedy  is  worse  than 
the  disease. 

But  the  keys  had  turned.  The  morning  had  opened. 
The  asylum  bell,  hung  up  a-top  in  the  belfry,  had  struck 
its  early  ding-dong.  "  Up,  up,  0  sleepers!  or  else  we'll 
make  you  get  up  ! "  That  is  what  the  bell  says,  and  that 
is  what  the  keys  say. 

Some  are  already  up,  and  are  pacing  their  cells  when  the 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF   LIBERTY.  129 

keys  turn.  They  are  glad  of  the  dawn,  and  start  from 
their  narrow  beds  at  its  earliest  peep ;  and  yet  they  gain 
nothing  hy  rising  but  change  of  posture.  The  same 
blank,  dreary  walls  greet  them ;  the  same  barred  windows 
shut  out  the  light;  the  same  groans  and  sighs  are  their 
morning  music.  Early  risers  in  asylums  do  not  get  up 
because  the  morning  is  a  pleasure,  but  because  the  bed  is  'a 
place  of  agony. 

As  we  said,  the  morning  had  dawned.  Its  hours  rolled 
heavily  away.  The  asylum  breakfast  had  received  asylum 
attention.  Bella  had  folded  the  spread  around  the  foot  of 
her  iron  bedstead,  and  had  pinned  it  in  the  most  approved 
hospital  style.  Learning  to  fold  the  bedspread  in  hospi 
tal  style  is  among  the  first  lessons  for  recuperating  minds. 
Bella  had  thoroughly  learned  the  art ;  and  her  spread  was 
pinned  square  to  the  inch  this  morning.  She  stood 
beside  her  barred  window,  and  her  attitude  was  that  of  de 
jection.  She  was  looking  out  upon  the  free  air,  and  was 
considering  the  possibility  of  getting  a  letter  mailed  to 
Edward.  She  was  sure  that  Edward  had  not  heard  where 
she  was.  "  He  would  take  me  out,  if  he  knew  my  situa 
tion.  Yes,  I  know  he  would."  Then  that  other  thought 
surged  through  her,  "  No.  Perhaps  he  would  not  take 
me  out.  Perhaps  he  thinks  I  am  crazy.  Perhaps  they 
have  written  him  so.  And  Mortimer,  if  he  thinks  I  am 
insane,  would  not  want  me.  0  my  Father  in  heaven ! 
this  will  drive  me  to  madness !  Dost  not  thou  see  it?  " 

Standing  there  thus  dejected,  she  heard  the  hall-door 
click.  Then  there  was  a  man's  step.  She  did  not  look 
up.  She  neither  knew  nor  cared  who  passed  through  that 
door  with  keys.  They  were  but  prison-guards.  The  steps 
of  the  man  came  on.  They  paused  at  her  door.  Then  she 
looked  up.  • 

"  Good-morning ! "  said  the  man  in  a  cool,  business  way. 


130  BELLA  ; 

" Good-morning !"  Bella  replied  indiiferently.  She. had 
seen  this  man  before,  walking  through  the  halls.  She 
knew  that  lie  held  some  position  on  the  staff  of  asylum 
keepers;  and  that  was  all  she  knew  of  him,  Or  cared.  She 
wished  no  acquaintance  with  the  asylum  officials.  She  had 
no  sympathies  with  them.  If  she  formed  acquaintances 
there,  it  would  be  with  those,  wlio,  like  herself,  were  suffer 
ers. 

But  this  man  did  not  heed  her  coolness.  He  held  in  his 
hand  a  folded  paper.  He  began  to  unfold  it,  and  drew 
near  to  her  as  he  did  so.  His  manner  was  imperturba- 
bly  calm,  and  of  a  pure  business  demeanor.  He  addressed 
her  as  though  the  business  was  desirable,  and  to  her  pure 
advantage. 

"  Miss  Forresst,  how  would  you  like  a  guardian  ?  " 

"  A  guardian  ! "  she  repeated  in  a  tone  of  surprised  in 
quiry. 

"  Yes,  a  guardian  over  yourself  and  property.  Your 
brother  has  sent  us  a  paper,  in  which  he  himself  is  ap 
pointed  in  that  capacity." 

He  laid  the  open  document  in  her  hand.  She  glanced 
at  it,  but  scarcely  comprehended  its  dread  import. 

"A  guardian!."  she  repeated,  and  tried  to  read  tho 
paper.  There  were  printed  words  and  written  words, 
technical  and  half-intelligible :  she  read  enough  to  bring  a 
giddy  feeling  over  her;  and,  with  the  words  staring  before 
her,  she  put  her  hands  to  her  eyes.  A  mist  had  gathered 
on  them,  and  a  weak  tremor  seized  her  whole  frame.  To 
what  end  was  she  coming?  What  power  was  this  that 
was  forging  and  binding  these  fetters?  Without  her 
knowledge,  physicians  had  put  their  names  to  papers  that 
deprived  her  of  every  right;  and,  on  the  strength  of  this, 
a  judge  had  exiled  her  from  home  and  freedom,  and  con 
signed  her  to  ignominy  and  misery.  Now,  when  she  was 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  131 

powerless,  unable  to  get  out,  or  appeal  to  any  person  for 
help,  another  legal  weight  was  laid  upon  her. 

With  a  thrill  of  new  anguish,  she  looked  from  the  paper 
up  to  the  face  of  the  man  before  her.  She  was  about  to 
ask  him  to  intercede  for  her;  but  his  countenance  was 
hard  and  cold.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  the  scene,  and  re 
marked,  "  You  are  fortunate  to  have  a  brother  for  a  guar 
dian." 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  she  responded  curtly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are !  Many  of  our  people  are  under  the 
guardianship  of  strangers ;  and  it  is  not  so  pleasant  for 
them.  Strangers  have  less  feeling." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  anybody  has  feeling,"  she  replied, 
tossing  the  paper  upon  the  narrow  bed. 

"  No,  you  do  not  see,  because  the  state  of  your  mind  is 
not  right  just  now.  We  hope  to  see  you  better  by  and 
by." 

He  turned  then,  and  went  out,  leaving  the  patient  alone 
with  her  guardianship  paper.  She  might  destroy  it,  or 
keep  it,  it  mattered  not  which  :  it  was  but  a  copy.  The 
original  was  safe. 

Bella  knew  very  little  of  the  forms  of  law,  or  its  techni 
cal  terms;  but  she  understood  that  the  paper  lying  there 
was  as  a  rivet,  fastening  her  fetters  tighter.  There  was  no 
one  to  whom  she  could  apply  for  redress  or  protection 
against  this  usurpation  of  power  over  her.  She  could  not 
get  outside,  to  present  her  case  to  any  person:  she  could 
not  send  out  a  letter  with  the  truth  in  it ;  and  inside  she 
could  get  no  help  nor  pity  save  from  those  who  were  equally 
powerless  with  herself. 

Overcome  by  the  helplessness  of  her  position,  she  resolved 
to  lay  her  whole  case  before  the  assistant  physician.  Was 
not  she  his  patient  ?  Was  it  not  his  place  to  attend  to  her 
wants  and  needs  ?  If  she  ought  to  be  released,  was  it  not 


132  BELLA  ; 

his  place  to  know  it,  and  to  help  her  ?  Was  it  right  for 
him  to  permit  people  to  stay  in  that  bondage,  when  he 
knew  that  every  day  was  an  injury? 

"  It  is  his  place  to  ask  me,  or  to  find  out  in  some  way 
whether  I  am  unjustly  kept  here,  and  whether  it  injures 
me ;  and  he  ought  to  be  honest  enough  to  tell  me,  and  to 
help  me.  But  then,  if  he  should  do  that  by  his  patients, 
he  would  soon  have  a  thin  house ;  and  it  is  not  for  the 
interest  of  the  institution  to  have  a  small  number  of 
patients.  However,  I  will  try." 

She  did  try.  She  told  the  assistant  physician  that  she 
wished  to  see  him  alone. 

"  I  can  give  you  a  few  moments,"  he  replied,  taking  out 
his  watch ;  and  she  was  thankful  for  even  that.  He  went 
into  her  little  room,  and,  closing  the  door,  leaned  against  it 
in  default  of  a  latch.  Briefly,  then,  but  truly  and  earnestly, 
she  related  her  history,  and  described  her  situation.  He 
listened  ;  and,  when  she  had  finished,  he  said,  "  It  is  a  sad 
story,  and  your  situation  is  very  trying ;  but  what  can  I  do 
for  yoa?  I  am  not  your  brother,  nor  relative  of  any  kind. 
I  have  no  power  in  the  case." 

"  You  can  set  me  free." 

"  I  have  no  power  for  that.     Your  friends  keep  you  here." 

"  But  you  are  my  doctor  :  JTOU  have  power  to  say  whether 
I  am  insane,  and  whether  I  ought  to  stay  here." 

"  And  suppose  I  say  that  you  are  not  insane.  What 
then  ?  Where  would  you  go  ?  What  would  you  do  ?  You 
and  your  property  are  under  a  guardian.  You  can  have  no 
money  without  your  guardian's  consent.  If  you  go  back  to 
your  friends,  they  will  return  you  here  again,  or  you  will  be 
a  homeless  wanderer.  Depend  upon  it,  you  are  better  off 
here  than  anywhere  else." 

"I  have  friends  who  would  not  turn  me  off." 

"  Why  do  they  not  come  to  you,  then  ?  They  must  know 
where  you  are." 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  133 

"No,  they  do  not  know  where  I  am.  There  is  some 
deception  practised  over  them.  If  they  could  know  where 
I  am,  they  would  come  and  take  me  away." 

"  Why  not  write  to  them  ?  " 

"  I  have  written.  I  have  given  the  letters  into  the 
superintendent's  own  hands." 

"  And  do  you  get  no  replies  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word.  He  does  not  send  ray  letters.  They  do 
not  go  into  the  mail." 

"  Does  not  send  them  ?     Then  they  were  unsuitable.'' 

"  They  were  not  unsuitable.  They  were  plain,  simple 
letters,  with  just  the  statement  of  my  situation.  But  how 
should  he  know  what  was  in  them  ?  He  promised  me  he 
would  not  open  them.  He  said  he  considered  me  competent 
to  write.  You  do ;  don't  you,  doctor  ?  " 

He  might  have  said,  "  Yes,  too  competent  for  our  interests : 
you  would  write  too  much  truth."  But  he  did  not.  He 
said.  "  Certainly ;  and,  if  the  superintendent  told  you  he 
would  send  your  letters  unread,  he  did  send  them.  You 
may  depend  upon  that." 

And  the  man,  standing  there  and  telling  her  that,  did 
not  blush  at  the  lie  he  was  speaking.  Why  ?  Because  she 
was  an  insane  patient.  He  looked  at  his  watch  again. 

"  I  must  go,  Miss  Forresst.  I  hope  I  shall  find  you  in  a 
happier  frame  of  mind  when  I  come  again.  Contentment 
is  one  of  the  greatest  blessings  of  our  lot.  Try  and  learn 
it.  Learn  wherever  you  are,  and  whatsoever  you  have, 
therewith  to  be  content.  The  Lord  will  be  your  comforter." 

He  went  out  then  ;  and  Bella  said,  "  Heartless  man  !  yes, 
the  Lord  is  my  comforter ;  and  I  thank  him.  But  he  ia 
outside  of  here.  I  do  not  need  to  stay  here  to  find  him. 
Contentment !  yes,  it  is  a  very  good  quality ;  but  if  we 
should  all  sit  down  supinely,  and  say,  'Wheresoever  we  are, 
and  whatsoever  we  have,  therewith  let  us  be  content,'  what 
12 


134  BELLA ; 

would  become  of  the  world  of  people  ?  No,  I  will  not  be 
content  in  such  circumstances  as  these.  I  will  run  away." 

The  thought  had  been  in  her  mind  before,  but  never  so 
definite  as  now.  It  took  root,  and  grew  into  shape  in  her 
mind. 

It  was  a  resolve  more  easily  formed  than  executed,  and 
she  knew  it ;  but  her  determination  was  strong,  and  she 
set  about  watching  for  an  opening.  She  made  herself 
agreeable  to  the  servants,  and'  tried  to  get  into  their  favor. 
She  begged  walks,  offered  to  work,  and  tried  various  devices 
to  get  near  the  outer  doors.  There  came  a  chance  at  last. 
She  had  begged  her  way  to  the  laundry  under  the  escort 
of  a  servant ;  and,  while  the  servant  was  busy,  she  slipped 
through  an  open  door.  But  they  were  after  her  in  a 
moment,  and  brought  her  back  in  triumph.  "  Ho,  ho !  " 
said  one,  "  you  didn't  do  it,  did  you  ?  " 

"You  needn't  try  to  come  that  dodge,"  said  another: 
"  we  shall  be  too  much  for  you." 

"Tried  to  run  away!  Ha,  ha!  ha,  ha!"  said  a  third. 
"  'Tain'fc  so  easy  done,  my  lady." 

Bella  did  not  care  for  their  sneers ;  but  for  the  fact  that 
she  could  not  get  away  she  did  care,  and  resolved  not  to 
give  up  her  efforts  for  freedom. 

"I  will  do  it,"  she  affirmed  in  the  silence  of  the  night; 
and  the  walls  of  her  room  heard  her.  Those  walls  had 
heard  and  received  the  wails  of  deeper  agony  than  hers ; 
»  but  she  did  not  see  their  record.  Only  God  and  the  angels 
had  the  key  to  these  hidden  tablets,  and  only  they  recorded 
what  was  written  there. 

"  I  will  leave  this  place."  Bella  said  it  over  to  herself, 
and  found  comfort  in  the  words. 

She  began  now  to  plan  in  earnest.  Every  sense  was  on 
the  alert ;  every  chance  was  canvassed ;  every  avenue  for 
escape  was  studied.  And,  sooner  than  she  anticipated,  the 


OR,    THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  135 

chance  came.  Miss  Smilej7  had  gathered  her  walking  com 
pany  at  the  outer  door,  when  a  disturbance  occurred  among 
them,  and  Miss  Smiley  stepped  back  to  quell  it.  Only  for 
an  instant  was  she  out  of  sight ;  but  that  instant  was  enough 
for  Bella's  quickened  purpose.  Without  one  moment's  con 
sideration,  with  not  one  studied  plan,  she  glided  from  the 
steps  and  down  the  path.  Like  a  bird  whose  feet  were 
wings  she  went,  swift,  yet  quiet,  flying,  yet  not  seeming  to 
fly.  One  woman  saw  her  go ;  but  she  was  no  traitor.  She 
saw  the  girl  disappear  around  the  building's  corner,  and 
deep  thankfulness  went  through  her  heart.  "  God  speed 
thee  ! "  was  her  unspoken  thought. 

When  Miss  Smiley  returned,  she  looked  around,  and 
counted  her  number.  "  There  is  one  gone,"  she  said  ;  and 
again  she  counted.  "  Yes,  there  is  one  gone.  Who  is  it.  — 
who  ?  Miss  Forresst  ?  Yes,  it  is  Miss  Forresst.  Who 
saw  her  go  ?  Did  anybody  see  her  go  ?  " 

3tfo  answer;  but  all  looked  one  upon  another.  One 
woman's  heart  still  said,  "  God  speed  thee,  my  sister !  God 
speed  thy  flying  feet ! " 

Back  to  their  cells  the  women  were  remanded:  there 
would  be1  no  walking  now.  And  they  went  back,  secretly 
wondering  where  and  how  Miss  Forresst  managed  to  slip 
away ;  and  also  secretly  hoping  that  she  would  have  the 
good  fortune  to  keep  away.  In  less  than  a  moment,  as  it 
seemed,  the  officials  were  on  the  alert.  One  might  have 
thought  a  fire-alarm  had  sounded,  so  suddenly  those  men 
started.  And  not  as  men  who  knew  not  what  to  do  did 
they  start,  but  in  trained  organization.  Thoroughly  bred 
to  the  business  were  the  hunting-bands  of  this  asylum. 
The  leader,  the  man  who  had  given  Bella  her  pupei*  of 
guardianship,  was  keen  on  the  scent  of  runaway  patients. 
Small  chance  had  they  of  escaping  him.  In  the  words  of 
his  townsmen,  he  was  "a  smart  man."  He  had  represented 


136  BELLA  ; 

them  in  the  State  legislature,  and  looked  quite  dignified  as 
be  held  his  head  erect  among  the  lawmakers.  But  now  he 
reminded  one  of  a  class  of  animals  that  scent  their  victims' 
tracks  by  instinct.  The  comparison  is  rude  and  barbarous, 
perhaps  ;  but  those  who  suffered  by  him  felt  that  it  was 
true,  and  that  he  did  indeed  lower  his  humanity.  How 
ever  just  or  necessary  it  may  be  for  patients  to  leave  an 
asylum,  they  are  pursued  as  relentlessly,  and  brought  back 
as  heartlessly,  as  fugitives  from  penal  imprisonment.  By 
our  asylum  practices,  good,  honorable,  virtuous  people  hold 
the  same  rank  as  criminals  in  state  prisons.  This  man  was 
securing  his  property  when  he  took  escaped  patients.  He 
had  legal  power  over  Bella,  and  could  send  police  or  other 
persons  after  her,  and  bring  her  back,  and  then  subject  her 
to  whatever  his  caprice  might  dictate.  He  knew  this,  and 
began  his  pursuit  methodically,  saying,  "  Which  way  did 
she  most  likely  turn  ?  "  He  answered  the  question  himself. 
"  She  must  have  turned  the  corner,  and  crossed  the  yard. 
To  the  yard,  men  !  and  branch  from  there  every  way.  I 
will  take  the  hill." 

He  had  selected  the  most  difficult  ground  for  himself, 
feeling  himself  most  competent.  They  started  in  swift  and 
earnest  pursuit.  They  thought  they  should  find  her  in  the 
yard  ;  for  how  could  she  get  beyond  the  high  picket-fence 
in  the  broad  daylight  ?  They  expected  to  carry  her  in 
amid  triumphant  laughter;  and  they  rushed  among  the 
bushes  with  mouths  all  ready  to  give  the  shout  of  discovery. 
But  they  hunted  in  vain.  All  in  vain  they  peered  into 
nooks,  searched  corners,  and  ran  around  the  buildings.  She 
was  not  there.'  "To  the  street,  to  the  street!"  was  now 
the  cry ;  and  away  they  went.  Women  were  in  the  streets, 
but  no  Miss  Forresst.  Nowhere  was  she  to  be  seen.  The 
leader  took  the  hill -track.  It  was  difficult  searching  there. 
The  ground  was  broken  and  broad,  the  houses  sparse ;  and 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  137 

in  the  fields  around  she  might  be  hidden  anywhere.  His 
practised  eyes  left  no  crevice  unsearched,  no  hillock  un- 
scanned,  no  yard  unexamined. 

Other  men  were  trying  other  grounds.  They  visited  the 
railroad  stations;  they  went  up  and  down  the  streets  where 
shops  were  ;  they  traversed  lanes  and  byways.  Then  the- 
leader  called  his  forces  in.  A  new  method  was  adopted. 
The  telegraph-wires  were  struck.  Despatches  were  sent 
to  Frederic,  and  to  every  other  place  where  it  was  likely 
she  would  go ;  and  men  were  stationed  at  the  depots  to 
watch.  The  police  were  informed;  .and  the  leader  went  out 
again,  giving  information,  and  notifying  people  that  a  pa 
tient  was  gone,  that,  wherever  she  appeared,  people  might 
be  ready  to  secure  her.  But  the  hours  wore  into  the  night, 
the  night  became  morning,  and  the  patient  was  not  found. 
The  face  of  the  assistant  physician  wore  a  solemn  look. 
"  Poor  Miss  Forresst,  how  unwise  she  was  !  Where  can 
she  be  ?  What  will  she  have  to  pass  through  ?  If  she  goes 
home,  her  friends  will  surely  bring  her  back.  How  much 
better  for  her  to  stay  here  ! "  And  the  one  woman  who 
had  seen  her  start,  silently  thought,  "  God  still  speed  thy 
flying  feet,  my  sister,  and  put  thee  far  from  here  !  I  wish 
I  was  with  thee." 

And  the  first  day  passed,  and  the  second,  and  the  third 
dawned.  No  tidings  came  of  the  lost  one.  The  patients 
whispered  to  each  other  in  joy.  Mrs.  Long  spoke  to  Mrs. 
Joselyn,  Miss  Tollman  skipped  blithely,  and  old  Mrs. 
Spears  said,  "  Thank  God  !  she  comes  not  back." 

And  where,  all  this  time,  was  Bella  ?  For  hours  after 
she  fled,  she  hardly  knew  where  she  was.  She  never  could 
realize  how  she  sped  across  the  asylum  yard,  nor  how  she 
went  over  the  picket-fence.  If  she  had  been  told  she 
could  do  it,  she  would  not  have  believed  it ;  but  it  was 
done  :  she  was  outside  the  prison  bars,  and  outside  the 
12* 


138  BELLA  ; 

yard.  Fleetness  must  do  the  work  now.  She  paused  not 
to  see  whether  she  went  towards  the  hill-region,  or  to  the 
busy  streets.  "  On,  on  !  "  was  her  thought ;  "  on  !  some 
where,  away  from  there.  On,  on,  anywhere,  anywhere ; 
but  forward,  on  !  " 

Like  a  flying  chamois  she  went,  and  yet  she  did  not  run. 
She  dared  not  run,  lest  she  should  attract  attention,  and 
some  one  should  arrest  her.  She  felt  like  a  fugitive,  and 
feared  every  moment  that  some  one  would  suspect  her. 
Her  heart  beat,  but  she  dared  not  stop  :  she  dared  not  even 
look  behind.  The  trot  «f  a  horse  frightened  her ;  the  sound 
of  men's  voices  gave  her  quivers  of  alarm.  The  day  was 
pleasant,  and  she  did  not  pause.  When  her  heart  throbbed, 
she  pressed  her  hand  on  it ;  when  her  breath  came  hard, 
she  drew  a  longer  inspiration.  And  still  she  went  on. 
Men  saw  something  pass  them,  —  what,  they  never  knew  : 
they  had  no  time  to  think.  And  so  night  came,  and  dark 
ness  settled  over  the  place  where  she  was.  Where  was  it? 
She  did  not  know.  How  far  had  she  come  ?  She  could  not 
tell.  She  only  knew  that  she  began  to  breathe  more  freely. 
She  began  to  feel  that  she  was  away ;  that  the  wide  world 
was  before  her,  that  she  was  free.  Something  seemed  to 
rise  up  in  her  mouth  :  it  felt  like  joy.  She  thought  it  must 
be  joy  ;  but  it  was  long  since  she  had  known  the  sensation, 
and  she  was  not  sure.  Perhaps  this  feeling  was  sudden 
freedom.  There  was  a  strange  lightness  all  over  her :  it 
seemed  as  though  a  pressure  had  been  suddenly  taken  from 
her,  and  she  was  rising  into  light.  "  Oh!  had  I  the  wings 
of  a  dove,  I  would  %,"  she  murmured,  as  she  saw  the 
broad-spread  sunset  sky ;  and  then  she  dropped.  She  fell 
wearily  upon  a  bed  of  grass,  and  its  soft  tufts  were  as  fra 
grant  down  to  her  tired  senses.  "  My  mother  Earth,  I 
welcome  thee  !  "  washer  ejaculation  ;  and,  for  the  first  time, 
she  realized  that  it  was  night.  Yes,  it  was  night.  The 
hours  of  darkness  were  coming ;  where  should  she  stay  ? 


OR,    THE    CRADLE   OP   LIBERTY.  139 

"  I  am  a  homeless  wanderer,"  she  said,  half  aloud  ;  "  but 
oil,  how  happy  I  am  ! " 

There  were  some  houses  in  the  distance.  She  knew  not 
what  kind  of  people  were  in  them,  hut  they  would  give  her 
shelter.  She  arose,  and  went  towards  them.  Now  she 
found  that  she  was  tired :  her  feet  ached,  her  limbs  trem 
bled,  she  walked  wearily.  Then  she  began  to  think  what 
she  should  say  if  she  called  at  a  house.  "  They  will  ask 
me  all  kinds  of  questions,  I  know.  Mother  always  used 
to  ask  people  all  about  themselves,  when  they  came  along 
begging  food  or  lodging.  Of  course  she  didn't  know 
whether  they  told  her  the  truth,  but  they  had  to  tell  her 
something ;  and  I  shall  have  to  answer  questions,  for  I  am 
a  beggar  now." 

Pausing,  then,  new  thoughts  came.  To  the  left  were 
the  houses;  to  the  right  stretched  dark,  concealing  woods. 
They  seemed  to  invite  her  to  their  privacy :  they  said, 
"  Come  to  us,  for  beneath  our  shadows  there  is  rest ;  "  and 
the  tired  girl  turned  that  way.  She  crossed  the  interven 
ing  field,  felt  the  night-dews  about  her  feet,  saw  the  shad 
ows  deepening,  and  entered  the  wood.  At  first  the  trees 
were  sparse.  No  shrubbery  was  among  them,  and  she 
walked  from  trunk  to  trunk  without  finding  an  inviting 
place  to  rest.  Then  low  bushes  appeared,  and  quiet  nooks 
were  frequent.  Then  she  came  to  a  stone  wall,  and  to  a 
place  where  two  walls  met.  In  the  angle  there  was  brush 
wood,  and  huge  piles  of  leaves  were  drifted  hi  and  dried. 

"  Here  I  will  rest,"  she  said.  "  I  will  slumber  here  ;  and 
the  free  winds  shall  sing  my  nightly  song,  and  the  leaves 
overhead  shall  be  my  canopy." 

She  took  off  her  hat  then,  and  hung  it  on  a  broken 
limb.  She  spread  her  shawl  around  her  shoulders,  and  her 
long  tresses  fell  about  her  neck  in  clusters.  Then  she 
smoothed  a  bed  of  leaves ;  and,  lying  down,  she  drew  the 


140  BELLA ; 

piles  of  dry  leaves  about  her,  and  snuggled  back  beneath 
a  low-spreading  branch.  "  My  God,  I  thank  thee  !  "  was 
her  thought.  The  stars  were  coming  out  in  the  azure 
above,  the  tremulous  leaves  whispered  peace,  and  night  was 
now  upon  her.  In  the  distance  a  dog  barked ;  and  this 
was  all  she  feared.  She  reasoned  thus :  "  In  our  woods, 
there  are  no  large  animals  ;  only  squirrels  and  birds  are 
here.  I  am  not  afraid  of  them.  Dogs  might  come;  but 
here  in  this  out-of-the-way  corner,  what  is  there  to  attract 
them  ?  No,  I  will  not  fear.  I  will  sleep  here  in  this 
cradle  of  my  God." 

Then  she  folded  her  hands,  and  the  soft-winged  spirit 
touched  her  eyelids  with  soothing  rest. 

It  was  deep  night  when  she  awoke,  startled  by  some 
sound.  She  was  conscious  of  a  crackling,  snapping  sound, 
and  something  seemed  to  fall.  There  was  a  twittering 
overhead,  and  she  strained  her  e}7es  as  she  listened ;  but 
no  more  noise  was  heard,  though  she  held  her  breath  that 
she  might  hear.  A  star  glimmered  through  the  foliage 
above,  and  afar  the  trees  seemed  to  tower  like  giants  in 
their  strength  ;  but  all  around  her  there  was  peace,  and  the 
leaves  about  her  person  were  warm  and  soft,  soothing  her 
to  rest.  Then  she  said,  "It  was  only  a  dry  branch  that 
snapped  and  fell  in  the  night  air.  I  will  sleep  again." 

When  next  she  awoke,  the  dawn  had  overspread  the 
earth,  and  light  was  gladdening  the  sweet,  dim  woods. 
Fresh  aromas  were  in  the  air;  health  and  strength  were  in 
their  odors  ;  the  old  earth  was  awake  again. 

Bella  had  some  troubles  that  day  ;  but  yet  they  scarcely 
seemed  like  troubles,  so  confident  was  she  that  she  should 
worry  through,  and  come  out  right.  It  was  ten  o'clock 
before  she  broke  her  fast;  for  she  did  not  feel  like  calling 
at  a  door  for  bread  till  hunger  drove  her.  She  evaded  the 
peoples'  questions,  and  still  went  on,  pausing  now  and  then 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  141 

to  rest  when  some  by-place  allured  her.  In  one  of  these 
pauses  she  began  to  plan.  "  I  will  not  go  to  Boston.  I 
will  not  go  home.  I  should  be  sent  back  to  the  asylum  if 
I  should.  That  is  the  way  patients  are  always  served. 
If  I  only  had  the  letter  I  wrote  to  Edward,  I  could  mail  it 
somewhere.  If  I  had  only  had  it  with  me  when  I  came 
away  ;  or,  if  I  had  paper,  I  could  write." 

This  last  idea  impressed  her.  She  must  write  to  Ed 
ward  ;  yes,  she  must  write ;  but  how  could  she  get 
paper  ?  Beg  it  ?  Yes  :  anybody  would  give  her  a  sheet 
of  paper,  and  lend  her  a  pencil.  She  walked  briskly  then  ; 
and  when  she  came  to  a  small  white  house,  whose  neat 
yard  bespoke  tender  women,  she  called.  She  trembled  a 
little  as  a  stranger  woman  opened  the  door,  but  ventured 
to  ask  for  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a  pencil.  The  woman 
stared.  It  was  such  an  odd  request  for  a  beggar.  She 
was  about  to  refuse ;  but  a  man  appeared.  He  looked  at 
the  girl,  and  said,  "Give  it  to  her,  mother:  a  sheet  of 
paper  isn't  much." 

"  And  would  you  give  me  an  envelope  too  ?  " 

Again  the  woman  stared ;  but  the  man  said,  "  Give  her 
an  envelope  too ;  what  harm  is  there  ? "  Then  he  spoke 
to  Bella.  "  Keep  the  pencil ;  keep  the  whole.  You  are 
welcome  to  them." 

"  I  am  all  right  now,"  she  thought,  as  she  turned  from 
the  door.  It  seemed  that  real  strength  was  given  her 
now;  and  she  walked  briskly  away.  She  would  write, 
then  beg  a  stamp,  then  mail  her  letter ;  and  — -  no  thanks 
to  the  hospital!  "If  I  have  nothing  else,  I  have  my  free 
dom,"  she  said;  "and  with  that  I  can  do  all  things." 
Then  she  turned  into  a  field,  sat  down  on  a  mossy  stone, 
and  wrote.  Smiles  dimpled  on  her  cheeks ;  Hope  guided 
her  pen.  She  wrote  a  page,  a  second  page ;  and  then  she 
paused.  A  troubled  look  was  on  her  face :  she  held  the 


142  BELLA  ; 

pencil  suspended.  The  troubled  look  deepened.  She  arose 
finally,  and  put  the  pencil  in  her  pocket.  She  walked  and 
mused.  She  wrote  no  more  that  night ;  nor  until  late  the 
next  forenoon  did  she  write  again.  No,  nor  even  then. 
But  she  had  come  to  her  decision ;  and  she  announced  it 
to  herself  in  this  wise.  "  It  is  just  here  :  I  cannot  tell 
Edward  where  to  direct  a  letter,  or  where  to  come,  even  if 
he  would  come  on.  I  must  have  a  place  where  I  can  stay 
till  I  hear  from  him.  I  know  what  I  will  do  :  I  will  find 
a  place  to  work  somewhere.  That  will  give  me  a  home 
and  wages.  When  I  have  engaged  my  place,  I  will  finish 
my  letter.  It  is  a  splendid  plan :  I  am  glad  I  thought  of 
it ;  for  then  I  can  tell  Edward  where  to  write." 

Every  thing  was  fair  now.  She  brushed  down  her 
dress,  put  back  her  hair,  smoothed  her  hat,  and  saw  her 
way  clear.  And  she  began  to  call  at  houses ;  but  the  more 
she  called,  the  less  seemed  her  chance.  Some  looked  at 
her  with  incredulity ;  some  said  outright  that  they  never 
hired  strangers ;  some  asked  her  where  she  came  from ; 
and  some  inquired  what  she  could  do.  But  nobody  wanted 
her.  She  came  to  a  village,  and  tried  at  the  large  houses ; 
but  no  one  wanted  a  stranger.  At  last  she  grew  discour 
aged,  and  said,  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  I  must  have  a  place. 
I  cannot  keep  tramping.  Where  should  I  come  out  ?  I 
cannot  send  Edward  word  where  to  write,  unless  I  have  a 
home." 

In  this  mood  she  entered  a  large  village.  A  signboard 
swung  in  the  middle ;  and  it  gave  her  a  thonght.  "Here 
is  a  tavern.  Maybe  they  would  hire  me." 

With  eager  steps  she  hastened  to  the  door,  and  made 
known  her  errand.  The  landlord  himself  came  to  her,  and 
asked  her  in.  She  saw  a  roomy  hall ;  doors  were  opening 
on  either  side ;  and  the  place  had  a  half-.stylish  air.  But 
style  was  nothing  to  her.  A  home  and  a  refuge  was  what 
she  wanted. 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  143 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  "  asked  the  landlord. 

"Any  thing,  any  thing  that  you  want  me  to." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  ?  " 

"  This  was  close ;  but  she  was  used  now  to  questions. 
She  made  a  random  answer :  "  General  housework." 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 
'  "Boston." 

"  Ah !  You  have  come  a  long  way.  Couldn't  you 
get  work  nearer  ?  " 

"I  didn't  try." 

"  Ah !  How  is  that  ?  Been  cutting  up,  and  want  to 
get  out  of  the  way  ?  " 

She  longed  to  turn  on  her  heel,  and  flee :  color  came 
and  went  in  her  face ;  but  she  stood  firm ;  and  the  man 
went  on  with  his  questions,  puzzling  her  as  a  cross-ques 
tioning  lawyer.  There  seemed  to  be  listeners, in  an  ad 
joining  room,  and  occasionally  a  face  peeped  out.  At 
last  a  man  motioned  to  the  landlord,  and  he  stepped  in 
there.  A  sigh  of  relief  gushed  from  Bella's  lips.  The 
man  in  the  next  room  spoke  low.  "  Landlord,"  said  he, 
"  that  'ere's  the  gal  what  Billings  was  tellin'  on.  I  know 
her  by  her  curls." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  said  the  landlord;  "yet  it  is  !  I 
know  it  too !  The  description  answers  exactly.  She  is 
the  lunatic  just  escaped.  Yes,  yes!  What  shall  we  do?" 

"  Hush  !  She'll  hear  you  !  I  tell  you,  landlord :  you  let 
me  have  a  team,  and  I'll  take  her  back  again.  They'll 
pay  me  handsome." 

"But  my  team,"  said  the  landlord  :  "they  ought  to  pay 
something  handsome  for  the  use  of  that.", 

"  Oh,  they  will,  they  will !  That  'ere  feller  that  goes 
round  huntin'  arter  runaways,  always  pays.  That's  the 
way  he  gits  everybody  to  help  him.v  I  tell  you  what,  land 
lord,  I'll  pay  you  for  the  team,  and  go  snucks  besides. 


144  BELLA ; 

That  feller'll  give  me  a  good  V  or  X,  I'll  warrant.  He'd 
give  a  good  deal  to  git  that  gal  back.  Jist  you  let  me 
manage." 

Then  the  man  went  out  to  the  hall :  "  I  say,  gal,  the 
landlord  here  don't  want  no  more  help  ;  but  I  know  a  man 
what  does  want  jist  sech  a  gal  as  you  are,  and  he'll  take 
you,  I'll  be  bound." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked  Bella,  trembling  with  disgust  at 
the  man's  rude  manner. 

"Oh  !  he's  down  here  a  few  miles.  You'd  have  to  ride  ; 
but  I  can  take  you  right  down,  ef  you  will  ride  with  me." 

"  I  want  work  so  much  that  I  will  go  anywhere,"  Bella 
answered,  while  cold  shivers  ran  over  her  at  the  thought  of 
riding  with  that  man  ! 

"  Well,  he'll  give  you  work,  I'll  be  bound." 

It  was  with  some  misgivings  that  Bella  entered  the 
wagon  with  this  "  creature,"  as  he  seemed  to  her.  She 
ventured  but  one  question. 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he's  a  gentleman !  Don't  think  he's  like  me,  'cause 
he  ain't.  He  wants  jest  seen  a  gal  as  you.  I  heerd  him 
say  so.  You  see,  you're  right  smart.  You  show  it  in  your 
looks.  Why,  I  shouldn't  wonder  ef  he  would  pay  me  for 
bringing  you  to  him." 

They  rode  on  silently  then ;  and  miles  passed  behind 
them,  till  at  length  something  in  the  landscape  became 
familiar.  She  was  sure  she  had  seen  it  before.  She  looked 
earnestly.  Yes,  it  grew  more  natural.  Yes,  she  knew 
the  place.  She  turned,  and  clutched  the  man's  arm.  "  You 
are  taking  me  back  to  the  asylum.  I  know  this  place." 

"  Asylum  !  What  do  you  know  about  the  asylum  ?  " 
he  asked  coolly. 

Sure  enough;  what  did  she?  She  was  betraying  her 
self.  She  fell  back  heavily,  and  was  still  j  but  her  heart 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  145 

beat  with  wild  leaps,  for  every  moment  the  scenery  grew 
more  familiar.  At  length  the  tops  of  the  long  asylum 
building  came  in  view.  She  gave  a  spring.  "  You  are 
taking  me  back.  I  will  not  go  !  I  will  not  go!  " 

But,  as  she  sprang,  a  powerful  arm  was  thrown  about 
her.  "No,  no,  my  hearty,  you  don't  get  away  from  me. 
Yes,  they  want  you  down  here.  I  heerd  'em  tell  about 
them  'ere  curls  o'  yourn."  And  thus  they  drove  in  at  the 
great  asylum  gate.  His  coarse  arm  was  about  her,  her 
heart  was  throbbing  with  lightning  velocity,  her  eyes 
burned  in  her  head.  Now  she  was  a  bound  prisoner.  That 
night  she  slept  in  the  blinded  room.  The  stern  supervisor 
came,  and  they  bound  her  down  with  leather  straps. 

"You  won't  walk  out  any  more,"  said  the  attendant. 
"  You  have  fixed  yoiirself  this  time.  You'll  get  no  more 
privileges,  I'll  warrant  you  ! " 

In  whispers  the  patients  spoke  to  eacli  other.  "It  is 
dreadful,  isn't  it  ?  There  is  little  use  in  trying  to  escape 
these  miseries.  If  we  get  away,  there  is  always  somebody 
willing  to  bring  us  back.  Patients  have  no  real  friends." 

Darker  than  ever  were  the  days  to  Bella  now.  She  was 
not  allowed  to  walk,  nor  even  to  leave  the  hall.  The 
strictest  rules  were  enforced  upon  her.  But  these  severities 
brought  no  submission  into  a  soul  like  hers.  Every  in 
dependent  fibre  of  her  being  roused  into  action.  Loving, 
warm-hearted,  sensitive  to  true  emotions  as  was  her  nature, 
there  yet  was  within  her  a  deep,  ingrained  sense  of  free 
dom,  an  independence  inherited,  and  trained  by  education 
among  free  people.  To  true  and  genuine  love  she  was  sub 
missive  as  a  child ;  but,  against  this  continued  repulsive 
bondage,  her  young  soul  incessantly  rebelled.  She  would 
not  be  silent.  She  thought,  she  watched,  she  observed, 
criticised,  and  talked.  Her  sister  patients  were  alarmed. 

13 


146  BELLA  ; 

They  tried  to  hush  her,  to  persuade  her  through  fear ;  but 
she  would  not  heed  them. 

"You  will  bring  more  trouble  upon  yourself,"  they  said. 

"  Trouble  !"  she  repeated  proudly.  "I  expect  trouble. 
We  all  are  surrounded  by  trouble  in  here.  What  I  say  is 
true.  If  my  garment  did  not  fit,  they  would  not,  could  not, 
put  it  on." 

"  We  know  it  is  all  true,"  the  ladies  returned  ;  "  but  we 
fear  for  the  consequences  to  you  when  you  say  these 
things." 

"  Fear,"  she  replied.     "  I  am  past  fear." 

" What  shall  I  do  with  her?"  asked  the  attendant  of 
the  assistant  physician. 

"  Put  her  at  work,"  he  replied.  "A  great  healthy  girl 
like  her  should  be  at  work." 

Marion  attempted  this,  but  was  met  by  a  flat  refusal. 
"No,  I  will  not  work  for  this  institution.  I  will  not  lift 
my  hands  for  the  prison  that  holds  me  in  this  bondage." 

"  But  you  should  not  be  angry  with  us.  It  is  your  friends 
who  keep  you  here." 

"Friends!"  echoed  the  patient.  "What  are  they? 
People  who  pet  us  while  we  are  in  prosperity,  and  desert 
us  in  the  hour  of  our  trouble?  Do  you  call  them  friends? 
And  as  to  you,  if  you  choose  to  let  yourself  for  pay  in  this 
building,  you  may  do  your  work.  I  am  not  a  hired  ser 
vant  in  this  place." 

Marion  told  the  assistant  physician  that  Miss  Forresst 
flatly  refused  to  work.  "  There  ought  to  be  a  law  for 
enforcing  labor  in  asylums,"  he  replied.  "  These  healthy 
people  ought  to  work." 

"  I'll  be  a  law  for  you,"  the  supervisor  remarked. 
"  Leave  Miss  Forresst  to  me.  I  can  fix  her." 

What  selling  South  was  to  a  Virginia  slave,  removal  td 
a  lower  ward  is  to  asylum  patients.  They  chill  with  sad" 


OK,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  147 

ness  when  one  of  their  number  is  removed  to  a  lower  hall. 
Their  hearts  go  out  in  sympathy  for  that  person  ;  and  pity 
followed  Bella  now,  for  this  removal  had  come  to  her. 

The  supervisor  entered  the  hall,  and  walked  straight  to 
Bella's  door.     v 

"  Miss  Forresst,  I  wish  you  to  change  halls.     You  will 
please  go  with  me." 

There  was  peremptoriness  in  her  tone.     Bella  looked  up. 

«  Now  ?  " 

"Yes,  now." 

Bella  glanced   around.     She   had   a   few  articles  lying 
about,  and  she  began  to  gather  them  up. 

"  Don't  stop  for  your  things,"  said  the  supervisor  in  a 
tone  of  command  :  "  come  !  " 

Bella  knew  it  was  useless  to  resist,  useless  to  remonstrate, 
or  even  to  speak.  She  looked  around,  gave  one  wave  of  her 
hand  to  Mrs.  Long,  and  went  out  through  the  rear  door  of* 
the  hall,  and  into  the  open  portico ;  and  the  place  that  had 
known  Bella  knew  her  no  more.  She  had  entered  that 
hall  without  introduction ;  she  left  it  without  ceremony. 
She  was  now  in  a  passage  with  only  her  stern  conductress. 
She  was  to  enter  another  hall,  a  new  arena,  where  the  faces 
were  all  strange  to  her,  and  the  "  treatment,"  she  had  rea 
son  to  suppose,  was  much  harsh'er  than  where  she  had  been. 
As  she  followed  her  guide  through  the  corridors,  and  inhaled 
the  mouldy,  musty  air,  she  asked  herself,  "  Am  I  really  oa 
American  soil,  or  am  I  in  some  country  where  tyranny 
rules  ?  Is  this  the  land  to  which  those  grand  old  men 
came,  that  they  might  sing  the  psalms  of  the  free  ? 


"  Then  the  wild  woods  rang 
With  the  songs  of  the  free, 
And  the  glorious  tones 
Of  liberty; 


148  BELLA  ; 

And  the  joyful  sound 
Rolling  far  around, 
Echoing  back  on  the  sea, 
Pealed  liberty." 

"  And  I,"  mused  the  girl,  "  a  lineal  descendant  of  those 
heroic  spirits,  am  an  innocent  prisoner  on  their  soil !  " 

It  was  a  mighty  struggle  through  which  the  free  young 
soul  of  Bella  passed  that  day.  She  had  cause  to  thank 
her  God  who  created  her  with  health  and  strength  to  en 
dure. 

As  she  passed  from  corridor  to  corridor,  weird,  wan  faces 
looked  out  at  her.  She  shuddered  for  them ;  and  her  quick 
thoughts  whispered  heneath  her  breath,  "  Poor,  dear,  suffer- 
.ing  women  !  Shall  I  ever  be  like  you  ?  God  knows  !  Per 
haps  so,  if  I  am  held  here  years,  as  you  are  ;  for  this  is  a 
wearing  existence,  —  a  death  in  life,  a  slow  wasting  into 
despair." 

And  back  in  the  hall  she  had  left,  women  went  to  their 
cells  and  wept.  "  Dear,  bright,  and  beautiful  Miss  Bella ! 
What  lies  before  her?  For  her  sympathy  with  us  she  was 
removed.  Because  she  could  not  sit  still,  and  see  justice 
outraged,  she  is  punished." 


OK,  THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  149 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

1 0  the  spirits  on  that  other  shore  quiver  at  each  new 
advent  ?  Why  should  they  ?  It  is  but  another 
who  has  passed,  by  Nature's  appointed  way,  to 
another  clime  of  God's  creating.  Do  we  tremble  at 
a  new  advent  into  our  life?  Nay.  We  rather  ring 
bells  of  acclamation,  crying,  "Another  child  is  born  :  a  new 
being  is  added  to  our  earth."  But  the  birth  into  this  life 
is  of  Nature's  appointing.  Therefore  we  should  rejoice;  for 
that  which  is  created  by  the  unseen  natural  forces  is  the 
result  of  laws  of  grandeur  and  magnificence,  mysteriously 
working  above  and  around  us.  At  these  results  we  should 
be  glad. 

Therefore,  at  every  advent  into  this  life,  we  should  be 
glad ;  and,  at  every  advent  into  the  next  life,  we  could  be 
glad  if  the  laws  of  God  in  Nature  were  kept.  For,  if  the 
laws  of  Nature  were  fully  kept  by  men,  all  persons  ,would 
live  in  health  and  beauty,  and  would  enter  that  eternal 
passage  as  ripened  shocks  of  corn,  gliding,  from  the  close 
of  long  years,  into  spheres  of  beauty  and  eternal  joy. 

But  advents  into  asylum  halls  are  not  of  God.  They 
are  men's  contriving^,  and  they  show  their  origin.  With 
all  the  art  and  reason  that  men  possess,  they  are  imperfect 
workmen  beside  the  great  artistic  Intellect.  No  painter  has 
ever  yet  equalled  one  flower;  no  sculptor  has  ever  put  life 
into  a  bust ;  no  scientific  man  has  yet  perfected  his  science. 
Man,  compared  with  any  other  earthly  creation,  has  wonder- 
-  13* 


150  BELLA  ; 

ful  powers  ;  yet,  at  his  best  estate,  he  is  but  an  imitator  of 
his  Creator,  and  men  should  feel  honored  when  they  suc 
ceed  as  his  imitators. 

But,  when  men  attempt  to  do  that  which  God  has  not 
done,  their  deficiencies  are  made  more  apparent ;  for  their 
plans  are  out  of  tune,  friction  and  pain  ensue,  and  harmony 
is  lost  in  discord. 

Such  are  men's  efforts  in  constructing  and  governing 
prisons.  God  has  given  the  human  race  but  one  environ 
ment  ;  and  that  is  the  pure,  big  atmosphere  in  which  we 
live  and  breathe.  Never  has  he  given  to  man  a  model  for 
prisons,  nor  for  causing  other  pain.  The  sweet,  fresh  atmos 
phere,  when  it  enters  and  emerges  from  the  healthy  lungs, 
causes  them  no  agony;  and  as  we  move  in  this  atmosphere, 
and  observe  the  beautiful  creations  that  flourish  in  it,  it 
does  not  seem  like  a  prison,  but  like  a  wonderful  palace  that 
our  Father  has  given  us  for  an  inheritance. 

But  men  and  women  sadly  mar  this  beautiful  floating 
palace  on  which  they  are  created.  They  mar  it  by  many 
mistakes  and  violations  of  infinite,  eternal,  natural  laws ; 
and  they  mar  it  by  their  unwise  methods  of  punishing  those 
who  have  violated  these  laws. 

Human  nature  is  wise  and  glorious  when  it  walks  in  the 
path  the  Creator  has  appointed ;  but  when  it  stretches  up 
its  hands,  and  says,  "  We  can  make  laws,  0  God !  for  we  are 
wiser  than  thou,"  it  creates  Babel  instead  of  the  order  the 
Lord  intended.  More  than  one  Babel  on  this  globe  has 
towered  up  as  an  insult  to  Heaven ;  more  than  one  still 
towers.  The  futility  of  such  works  is  always  apparent  on 
near  inspection.  Let  us  draw  near,  and  see  this  inven 
tion  into  which  Miss  Forresst  was  now  entering,  —  this  pat 
ent  for  the  cure  of  minds. 

She  followed  the  supervisor  into  the  hall.  It  was  longer 
than  the  one  she  had  left ;  but  its  sides  were  lined  with  the 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  151 

same  kind  of  coarse  doors,  and  its  aspect  was  all  prison. 
The  floor  was  unpainted,  and  coarser  than  that  of  the  hall 
she  had  left.  Along  the  sides  were  ranged  a  few  stiff  set 
tees  or  lounges,  put  there  apparently  to  use,  but  not  much 
permitted  to  the  weary  women,  from  fear  of  the  injury  the 
settees  might  sustain.  The  building  and  furniture  of  asy 
lums  must  be  preserved  intact  for  the  inspection  of  trustees. 

Bella  looked  up  and  down  this  hall ;  and  a  glance  told 
her  that  it  was  full  of  a  deeper  misery  than  any  she  had 
seen.  The  women  seemed  lifeless  and  dejected.  Their  faces 
were  dulled,  and  an  asylum  apathy  was  settled  on  them. 
They  looked  at  each  other  as  Sorrow  looks  in  the  eyes  of 
Sorrow,  and  as  Despair  watches  Despair,  saying  in  heart- 
language,  "  How  long,  0  Lord !  how  long  ?  "  As  Bella  en 
tered,  they  turned  their  eyes  upon  her;  and  their  eyes  spoke 
as  lips  oft  spoke  in  "  the  best  hall."  "  Another,  another. 
How  many  are  doomed  ?  " 

Bella  felt  a  deeper  chill.  Her  bosom  heaved,  and  her 
long  black  ringlets  quivered  as  from  deep  emotion.  As  she 
followed  her  conductress,  they  paused  at  the  door  of  a  dor 
mitory.  Six  cot-beds  stood  side  by  side.  Every  night  six 
women  were  locked  in  there,  strangers  to  each  other,  from 
different  ranks  in  society,  but  called  insane.  How  insane 
were  they,  if  six  could  be  trusted  together  in  one  small 
room,  locked  in  by  themselves,  without  power  to  get  out  ? 

But  Bella  did  not  think  of  this.  She  only  thought  that 
she  was  to  be  one  of  the  six ;  and  involuntarily  she  shrank 
back.  "  Not  there  ;  oh,  do  not  put  me  there  !  " 

"  I  do  not  intend  to,"  the  official  replied.  "  I  intend  you 
shall  have  a  room  alone  ;  and  I  wish  you  to  stay  in  it.  I 
wish  you  to  form  no  acquaintances  in  this  hall,  but  to  re 
main  in  your  room  entirely  alone.  This  is  your  room." 

She  paused  at  an  open  door;  and  Bella  glanced  within. 
An  unpainted,  coarse  board  floor ;  an  iron  bedstead  at  the 


152  BELLA  ; 

right  hand;  a  small  chest-of-drawers  at  the  foot  of  the  bed; 
and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  cell  another  bed,  -*—  a  sort  of 
wooden  frame  a  foot  and  a  half  wide.  This  was  taken  out 
into  the  hall  at  night  for  some  poor  mortal  to  lay  her  tired 
body  on,  while  she  sought  the  rest,  that,  heing  sought,  often 
could  not  be  found.  Between  these  two  beds  there  was 
barely  room  to  walk  ;  between  the  foot  of  the  iron  bedstead 
and  the  drawers  there  was  just  room  for  a  small  chair.  For, 
a  moment  the  young  lady  stood  at  the  door,  and  asked  her 
self  whether  it  was  possible  for  any  thing  to  be  more  cheer 
less.  But  she  did  not  speak ;  for  speaking  would  bring  on 
an  altercation,  and  an  altercation  would  only  result  in 
heavier  trouble  for  herself.  Therefore  she  silently  walked 
into  the  disagreeable  place ;  and  the  supervisor  turned  away. 
She  went  to  the  attendant,  Annie,  and  said,  "  I  have  brought 
down  Miss  Forresst  to  your  hall.  I  wish  her  to  have  her 
room  entirely  to  herself.  I  wish  her  to  have  no  conversa 
tion  or  communication  with  any  of  the  patients.  You  will 
please  not  allow  her  to  go  into  any  of  their  rooms,  nor  allow 
any  one  of  them  to  enter  hers." 

Annie  received  this  order  without  comment,  simply  bow 
ing  her  assent.  Annie  had  but  recently  come  to  the  asylum. 
She  was  a  lady  in  heart,  thought,  and  feeling.  She  had 
come,  not  with  the  idea  that  these  were  crazy  people  whom 
she  might  "  thrash  "  about,  and  take  pay  for  it ;  but  she  had 
come  with  the  feeling  that  they  were  unfortunate  people, 
for  whom  she  was  to  do  all  the  kind  acts  that  were  in  her 
power.  The  ladies  under  her  appreciated  her  tenderness 
toward  them.  She  kissed  a  poor  haggard  woman  one  day, 
and  the  woman  was  overwhelmed  with  &  grateful  delight 
that  she  could  not  forget.  Often  the  women  said  to  her, 
"  If  we  could  always  have  attendants  like  you,  Annie,  we 
should  not  be  so  wretched." 

But  Annie's  kindness  was  frequently  counteracted  by  the 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  153 

supervisor,  who,  calling  Annie  "  too  soft-hearted,"  took 
upon  herself  the  government  of  the  hall.  She  went  about 
now  among  the  patients,  and  gave  them  all  particular  in 
structions  to  keep  out  of  Miss  Forresst's  room,  and  not  even 
to  speak  to  her  when  they  met  her  in  the  hall,  as  she  was 
"  a  very  troublesome  patient ;  and  the  less  they  had  to  do 
with  her,  the  better  it  would  be  for  them." 

The  consequence  was,  that,  whenever  Bella  stepped  into 
the  hall,  she  was  the  immediate  object  of  scrutiny,  although, 
as  the  women  looked  at  her,  they  kept  at  a  respectful  dis 
tance,  much  as  they  would  from  a  lioness  that  had  suddenly 
been  thrown  among  them.  They  expected  some  violent 
outbreak  or  fearful  manifestation ;  but  hours  rolled  into 
days,  and  still  the  patient  was  quiet.  She  went  to  and  from 
the  table,  and,  when  necessary,  crossed  and  re-crossed  the 
hall.  No  one  spoke  to  her;  and,  knowing  herself  to  be 
under  a  ban,  she  spoke  to  no  one.  But  for  her  speaking 
eyes  she  was  not  responsible.  Nature  had  given  her  eyes 
that  would  speak ;  and,  though  she  suppressed  her  lips 
when  she  met  these  women,  the  blue-black  Montague  would 
flash  out.  And  as  the  language  of  the  eyes  is  not  easily 
mistaken,  it  came  about,  ere  many  days,  that  the  women  all 
felt  acquainted  with  Miss  Forresst.  They  began  to  suspect 
a  hoax,  and  to  see  that  Miss  Forresst's  "  troublesome  "  qual 
ities  were  not  from  insanity,  but  from  her  quick  perception, 
which  made  her  "  traublesom'e  "  where  there  was  so  much 
wrong  to  discern.  Annie  formed  the  same  opinion ;  but 
she  made  no  remark.  Presently  the  women  began  to  ques 
tion  her. 

"Annie,  do  you  see  any  thing  dangerous  about  Mi^s 
Forresst  ?  " 

"  I  see  nothing,"  was  Annie's  mild  reply. 

"We  all  thought  she  was  violent,  from  the  orders  given 
about  her ;  but  she  does  not  show  any  thing  of  it,  and  we 
have  changed  our  opinion." 


154  BELLA ; 

"You  have  a  right  to  your  opinions,"  said  Annie,  smiling. 

"  Yes  :  we  can  think  them,  but  not  express  them.  We 
dare  speak  to  you,  because  you  are  so  kind." 

"  I  speak  myself  sometimes,"  was  Annie's  response. 

There  was  in  this  gallery  a  small,  frail  woman,  who  was 
one  of  the  objects  of  the  supervisor's  especial  attention.  It 
seemed  that  she  could  not  be  satisfied  unless  this  woman 
was  under  discipline.  Mrs.  Jones  was  the  sufferers  name. 
She  was  the  wife  of  a  respectable  young  farmer;  and  she 
was  also  young,  though  she  had  been  the  mother  of  five 
children.  She  wandered  up  and  down  this  hall,  heart-broken 
and  forlorn.  Somehow  she  had  incurred  official  displeasure ; 
and,  as  a  consequence,  she  bore  the  whole  force  of  discipline. 
She  had  walked  in  jackets  day  after  day,  till  jackets  seemed 
her  normal  condition.  And  it  is  not  a  light  thing  to  wear 
a  jacket  made  of  strong  canvas,  with  heavy  sleeves  coining 
down  over  the  fingers,  and  sewed  tightly  at  the  ends,  to 
which  are  attached  straps  that  bind  the  hands  tight  to  the 
body.  When  these  straps  are  tied,  the  hands  cannot  be 
raised  from  the  body,  nor  has  the  person  the  least  chance 
to  use  them.  Mrs.  Jones  had  worn  jackets  till  it  seemed 
that  she  must  be  worn  out  herself;  and  she  was.  She 
grew  pale  and  thin,  and  her  eyes  looked  staring  and  wild. 
"  She's  a  terribly  crazy  woman,"  the  assistant  physician 
said ;  and  therefore  he  justified  the  acts  of  the  supervisor. 
Mrs.  Jones  had  been  dragged  on  the  floor,  by  her  two  arms, 
the  length  of  the  gallery.  She  had  been  pulled  across  the 
hall  by  the  ears  ;  she  had  been  jerked  \>y  the  hair  of  the 
head  ;  she  had  been  struck  by  the  keys,  and  carried  on  her 
forehead  the  scars  of  the  gashes  they  had  made !  She 
was  among  those  who  had  been  silently  watching  Bella, 
and  had  read  the  young  girl's  speaking  eyes.  Softly,  one 
morning,  she  came  to  Bella's  door,  and  cautiously  looked  in. 
Bella  saw  her  wild  eyes,  and  thin,  wan  face,  and  was  star 
tled.  Mrs.  Jones  said,  "  May  I  come  in  ?  " 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OP  LIBERTY.  155 

Bella  hesitated.  Then  she  said,  "  You  know  I  am  not 
allowed  company." 

"  Yes,  I  know/'  said  Mrs.  Joiies.  "  Is  it  because  you  do 
not  want  them,  or  because  the  people  over  us  do  not  want 
you  to  have  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  the  people  over  us  !  I  should  not  shut  myself 
up  of  my  own  will." 

"  Then  I  am  coming,"  said  the  woman  ;  and,  gliding  in, 
she  partially  closed  the  door  as  a  screen  behind  her. 

"But  the  supervisor"  —  Bella  suggested. 

"  She  has  just  been  through  the  hall,"  Mrs.  Jones  replied. 
"  She  won't  come  again  quite  yet." 

"  And  Annie  "  — 

"She  won't  tell.  She  is  always  good.  She  has  been  here 
only  a  short  time ;  and,  if  we  could  have  such  attendants  as 
she  is,  it  wouldn't  seem  so  terrible  here.  But  there  !  after 
„  all,  it  can't  be  good  here.  The  best  of  attendants  could  not 
make  things  right.  There  are  the  supervisors,  and  the 
matron,  and  the  doctors,  all  coming  in  and  giving  orders, 
and  spoiling  all  comfort.  Annie  says,  if  we  could  be  let 
alone,  and  do  a  little  as  we  please,  she  thinks  we  might 
have  a  little  happiness,  if  we  are  prisoners.  And  then  there 
are  such  rules  !  Did  you  ever  read  the  printed  rules  hung 
up  in  this  hall,  Miss  Forresst  ?  " 

"  I  looked  them  over." 

"  Did  you  notice  that  every  rule  has  a  not  or  never 
in  it  ?  » 

"  I  did  not  observe  that.  I  only  thought  they  were  very 
close,  hard  rules." 

"Well,  you  read  them  again.  There  are  ten  of  them, 
and  every  one  reads,  '  The  patients  shall  not,'  or  '  the  pa 
tients  shall  never  ; '  till  one  wonders  what  we  may  do  here. 
Don't  you  think  it  is  wicked  to  keep  people  shut  up  so,  and 
deprive  them  of  every  privilege  of  natural  life  ?  " 


156  BELLA  ; 

"  My  opinions  are  well  known  here,"  Bella  replied.  "  It 
may  not  be  best  for  me  to  repeat  them." 

"  And  that  is  why  they  order  us  not  to  speak  to  you," 
said  Mrs.  Jones,  her  face  lighting  up  with  intelligence.  "  I 
understand  them.  You  know  too  much  for  them.  You  see 
through  things,  and  there  is  so  much  here  that  won't  bear 
being  seen  through.  They  tried  to  make  us  think  you  a 
wild  maniac  ;  but  I  am  sure  I  don't  see  but  you  are  as  ra 
tional  as  they  are.  Are  you  insane  ?  " 

"  I  never  knew  that  I  was  ;  but  I  don't  know  how  soon 
I  shall  be,  if  I  stay  liere." 

t(  That's  it ! "  said  the  woman  with  a  sudden  thrill. 
"  They  make  people  crazy  here.  I  know  all  about  it.  I 
have  borne  their  discipline ! "  Here  her  eyes  dilated. 
"  Yes,  I  have  borne  their  '  treatment.'  I  have  been  har 
nessed  to  an  iron  bed  in  the  blinded  room,  and  staid  there, 
bound,  all  night,  —  alone,  except  my  God.  I  was  sane  when 
I  came  here.  I  was  sick,  but  sane.  I  am  not  sane  now : 
I  am  insane,  insane !  I  felt  myself  grow  insane.  They 
drove  me  into  it.  And,  oh,  it  was  such  pain,  such  terrible 
pain  !  I  shrieked  in  my  agony  ;  and  then  they  sheeted  me. 
Do  you  know  what  that  is,  Miss  Forresst  ?  " 

"  No.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you.  They  take  a  poor  woman,  like  as  they 
took  me,  and  they  take  her  into  one  of  these  little  cells. 
Our  supervisor  is  very  fond  of  that  kind  of  discipline. 
When  she  sheeted  me,  she  took  me  into  that  little  room 
opposite  this.  She  had  two  attendants  with  her,  great 
strong  girls;  and  she  is  a  strong  woman,  you  know;  and 
they  laid  me  down  flat  on  the  bed,  and  held  me  there. 
And  while  the  two  girls  held,  my  arms  and  feet,  she  took 
the  sheet,  and  wound  it  around  and  around  my  head,  closing 
my  mouth  and  nose  from  the  air.  I  could  not  breathe. 
A  feeling  came  over  me  as  of  death,  and  a  gurgling  noise 


OR,   THE   CEADLE   OF   LIBERTY.  157 

was  in  my  throat.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  my  God; 
that  I  could  never  breathe  again.  Then  they  unwound  the 
sheet.  I  suppose  they  did  not  want  me  to  die  outright. 
Oh,  when  I  was  sick,  and  needed  comfort,  this  was  what  I 
had!  And  my  little  children  at  home  —  when  I  think  of 
them  !  But  oh,  I  must  not  think  !  And  we  are  so  hungry 
here :  we  have  so  little  to  eat.  Don't  you  get  hungry,  Mis:} 
Forresst  ?  " 

"  I  do,  in  this  hall.  In  the  other  hall  there  is  enough 
such  as  it  is;  but  here  there  is  not  enough  of  any  thing. 
I  think  the  ladies  must  all  be  hungry." 

"  They  are,  they  are.  Sometimes  we  divide  out  the  bread, 
so  as  to.  be  sure  that  each  has  her  portion.  At  other  times, 
some  of  us  feel  so  hungry  that  we  hurry  to  the  table  like 
greedy  pigs ;  and  then  the  last  ones  go  without;  for  we 
can't  all  have  enough,  you  know,  and  hunger  makes  people 
selfish.  Don't  you  think  so,  Miss  Forresst?" 

"I  have  heard  of  its  making  people  wild  and  insane," 
said  Bella.  "But  here  they  use  it  to  cure  insanity;  and, 
as  this  is  a  scientific  and  approved  institution  for  the  cure 
of  diseased  minds,  I  think  people  are  mistaken  in  eating 
enough  out  in  the  world.  They  ought  to  know  that  plenty 
of  good  food  is  injurious  to  mental  health.  And  when  they 
provide  dinners  and  entertainments  for  celebrities,  they 
should  have  a  few  baked  beans,  or  a  little  corned  beef  and 
cabbage,  or  a  plate  of  bone-soup,  or  a  bit  of  salt  fish,  fol 
lowed  by  a  dessert  of  half-made  hasty-pudding.  My  father 
used  to  make  better  puddings  for  his  horse.  It  is  a  pity 
the  world  should  be  ignorant  of  the  scientific  methods  for 
mental  cure  that  are  used  in  these  large  establishments. 
Somebody  ought  to  make  this  system  public." 

"  If  you  ain't  splendid  !  "  said  Mrs.  Jones.  "  I  do  not 
wonder  they  keep  you  alone.  Why,  you  could  stir  up  the 
patients  till  there  would  be  a  rebellion  right  here  in  this  hall." 
14 


158  BELLA  ; 

"Which  I  should  be  sorry  to  do:  for  they  can  neither 
get  out,  nor  help  themselves,  in ;  and  I  should  only  cause 
them  more  trouble.  No :  it  is  not  in  here  that  these  mat 
ters  should  be  discussed.  It  is  out  in  the  world,  the  open, 
free  world,  everywhere,  in  every  house  and  family.  For 
are  not  homes  broken,  and  family  ties  sundered,  to  feed  these 
institutions?  People  outside  of  here  should  know  just 
what  goes  on  inside,  — just  what  we  know,  —  we  who  suf 
fer." 

Click. 

"  Hush  !  "  murmured  Mrs.  Jones.  "  Somebody  is  com 
ing."  And,  with  terror  in  her  face,  she  darted  behind  the 
door,  forcing  her  way  in  at  the  foot  of  the  narrow  bed. 

The  click  was  that  of  the  supervisor.  She  passed 
through  the  hall,  looking  keenly  each  way  at  the  weary, 
dispirited  women.  She  saw  Bella  sitting  in  her  one  chair, 
and  said  to  herself,  "  It  takes  me  to  manage  patients." 

She  did  not  see  Mrs.  Jones  behind  the  door.  But  Bella 
saw.  She  saw  how  Mrs.  Jones's  eyes  dilated,  how  she  grew 
wild  at  the  sound  of  those  stern,  hated  steps  ;  and  Bella  did 
not  wonder.  She  reflected  on  the  "treatment"  this  super 
visor  had  given  this  pale  woman,  whose  insanity  was  caused 
by  a  physical  disability  that  should  have  received  the  ten- 
derest  care ;  and  her  reflections  opened  to  her  mind  new 
and  broad  views  of  this  appalling  disease.  She  marveDed 
that  the  doctors  looked  on  complacently,  and  winked  at  the 
cruelties  the  attendants  co'mmitted;  and  she  marvelled  also 
that  the  physicians  looked  only  superficially  at  their  pa 
tients,  holding  them  in  bondage  while  their  disease  worked 
deeper  and  deeper. 

Mrs.  Jones's  visit  emboldened  the  other  women  to  try  sly 
visits ;  and,  within  a  week,  nearly  every  woman  in  the  hall 
had  been  in  Bella's  room.  Sometimes  Annie  would  look  iu 
and  say,  "  Be  careful,  or  you  will  be  caught." 


OK,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  159 

"  Oh !  you  keep  watch,  Annie,  and  let  us  know  if  you  see 
her  coming." 

The  kind  Annie  did  watch,  both  for  their  sakes  and  her 
own  ;  for  she  knew  that  if  she  was  discovered  as  a  partisan 
with  what  would  be  called  insubordination,  she  would  re 
ceive  reprimands,  perhaps  dismissal,  though  as  to  the  latter, 
she  expressed  herself  as  considering  it  would  be  no  disgrace 
if  she  was  dismissed  for  being  too  humane.  "I  should  be 
proud  to  have  that  said  of  me,"  she  remarked. 

As  connecting  links  between  the  halls,  there  are  porticos 
with  large  windows,  where  the  patients  can  walk,  and  fam^y 
themselves  out  of  doors.  But  the  windows  are  iron-sashed, 
and  the  doors  locked.  Bella  sometimes  walked  in  these 
porticos,  for  exercise  and  variety  to  her  life.  Many  and 
sad  were  the  sights  she  saw  here,  many  and  sad  the  les 
sons  she  learned.  She  saw  women  thrust  out  there  at  the 
caprices  of  their  attendants.  When  it  was  rain}',  and  when 
it  was  cold,  early  and  late,  and  at  any  other  times,  they 
were  rudely  pushed  out  and  locked  out  at  the  commands  of 
their  attendants.  There  was  one  poor,  thin,  hollow-cheeked 
woman,  who  had  been  for  more  than  a  score  of  years  in 
that  house,  who  was  regularly,  every  morning,  thrust  out 
there  to  pace,  or  crouch  down,  regardless  of  the  weather. 
In  the  depths  of  winter,  when  the  ice» crackled  around  the 
building,  and  the  hoar-frost  covered  the  windows,  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the  great  bell  rang,  this 
woman's  attendant  went  into  hen  room,  pulled  her  out  of 
bed,  threw  a  calico  gown  and  a  thin  shawl  over  her  shoulders, 
and  thrust  her  out  to  walk  in  that  cold,  cheerless  space. 
The  poor  creature  shivered  and  chattered  there  for  an  hour. 
Then  she  was  taken  in ;  and  the  rest  of  the  day  she  was 
locked  into  her  desolate  cell,  sitting  all  day  alone,  without 
fire,  occupation,  or  comfort.  She  had  brothers  and  sisters 
out  in  the  world,  in  luxurious  homes,  with  plenty  around 


160  BELLA  ; 

them.     They  were  healthy,  robust  people.     She,  the  invalid, 
fared  no  better  than  a  vile  felon  on  a  dungeon-floor. 

Many  faces  did  Bella  see  as  she  walked  these  porticos. 
They  came  to  the  windows  of  their  halls,  and  looked  out  into 
this  dreary  space.  There  were  young  faces,  delicate,  refined 
and  beautiful,  looking  out  in  wistful  agony.  There  were  old 
faces,  from  whom  the  hope  and  joy  of  life  had  flown.  There 
were  women  in  middle  life,  cut  suddenly  from  all  they 
loved ;  and  hopeless  prison  stagnation  rested  on  them  all. 
There  was  one  woman,  sent  out  there  every  day  in  the  piti 
less  cold  to  eat.  With  her  plate  of  meagre  food  in  her 
hand,  she  was  turned  out  and  locked  out.  There  was 
neither  chair  nor  table.  The  floor  was  of  bare  boards  :  she 
put  her  plate  on  it  in  one  corner,  and,  crouching,  ate  her 
daily  food  there.  Bella  shuddered  at  the  sight.  It  seemed 
like  a  dog  crouching  to  his  food ;  and,  when  a  human  being 
falls  to  this  state,  it  is  pitiful  indeed. 


OE,   THE  CEADLE  OF  LIBEETY.  161 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

CONNECTED  with  our  asylums  are  chapels,  where 
God  can  be  worshipped  by  patients  in  bondage. 
The  chapels  are  airy,  prettily-finished  rooms,  and 
are  used  for  all  public  meetings  of  the  asylum  in 
mates,  such  as  sociables,  lectures,  prayers,  and  any 
amusements  that  the  superintendent  sees  fit  to  provide, 
But  all  these  arrangements  are  subject  to  stringent  rules, 
and  do  not  at  all  partake  of  the  nature  of  free  meetings  in 
the  open  world.  First,  the  majority  of  those  present  in 
these  asylum  assemblies  are  driven  together  by  the  orders 
of  their  attendants ;  for  comparatively  few  are  so  trained 
that  they  walk  submissively  in  the'  circumscribed,  plodded 
paths  that  the  managers  mark  out. 

Second,  the  manner  of  going  from  the  halls  to  the 
chapel  gives  patients  strange  sensations  of  bonds  and 
prison  horror.  The  patients  are  filed  from  the  halls  under 
guard;  and,  to  reflecting  minds,  this  filing  is  a  sad  sight. 
It  seems  like  mortals  filing  through  passages  to  eternity, 
without  freedom,  joy,  or  hope. 

Some  very  good  lectures  are  given  in  these  chapels.  If 
delivered  outside,  they  would  be  both  pleasant  and  instruc 
tive.  But  here  the  listeners  feel  their  chains,  and  are  too 
burdened  and  unhappy  to  find'real  enjoyment  in  anything. 
During  long  days  they  have  been  sitting  within  sounds  of 
woe,  —  have  been  in  misery  themselves,  and  know  that 
they  are  to  go  from  the  chapel  back  to  those  same  locked 
u* 


102  BELLA  ; 

halls.  They  think  also  of  the  numbers  left  there,  too  mis 
erable  to  come  out,  even  for  an  hour ;  and  that  over  them 
are  left  guards,  whose  business  it  is  to  keep  them  there. 

Realization  of  these  circumstances  prevents  the  patients 
from  finding  real  pleasure  in  any  thing  within  these  walls. 
Their  nerves  are  tremulous  with  fear ;  their  hearts  ache 
with  suffering.  From  beginning  to  end,  the  "treatment" 
of  insane  patients  is  made  up  of  shocks  to  their  already 
weakened  nerves ;  falsehoods  that  are  uttered  to  them  as 
freely  as  though  God  had  not  forbidden  falsehood  and 
deceit ;  and  violent  acts  committed  upon  them,  such  as,  if 
Committed  by  them,  would  consign  them  forever  to  cells. 

The  false  ideas  of  the  cure  of  insanity,  which  have  given 
birth  to  the  corroding  system  now  eating  the  hearts  of  our 
people,  are  sanctioned  by  laws,  that,  though  framed  for  the 
protection  of  persons  accused  of  insanity,  can  be  easily 
'evaded  by  unscrupulous  men ;  and  rational  people  can  be, 
and  are,  as  cruelly  confined  as  the  truly  insane.  Not  only 
are  rational  women  there,  but  men  also,  on  whose  brows 
•are  the  stamp  of  intelligence  and  the  seal  of  truth.  Bella 
met  one  of  these  gentlemen,  one  evening,  at  a  chapel  socia 
ble.  Surprise  almost  compelled  unbelief  in  her  own  eye 
sight  when  she  saw  Mr.  David  Wright  sitting  among  the 
^patients  in  the  chapel.  She  had  met  him  often  in  Boston, 
and  thought  him  one  of  the  finest  men  of  her  acquaintance. 
He,  too,  was  equally  surprised  at  meeting  her.  He  spoke 
with  her. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  he  said.  "  Do  I  really  see  Miss  Bella 
Forresst  in  this  unfortunate  place  ?  " 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  she  answered;  "but  you  are  not 
more  surprised  than  I  am  to  see  Mr.  David  Wright  here." 

Then  followed  the  usual  questions  ;  of  which  one  was, 
"  Do  you  think  you  are  benefited  by  being  here  ?  " 

"I  think,"  was  Mr.  Wright's  reply,  "  that  I  am  in  a  con- 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  163 

stant  anxiety  about  my  family  ;  that  my  wife  is  struggling 
with  her  four  boys  to  manage,  and  no  husband  to  help  her; 
and  that  she  is  paying  six  dollars  a  week  for  me  here,  for 
board  that  is  of  the  meanest  quality ;  and  I  see  no  benefit 
to  myself.  But  I  am  in.  When  I  shall  get  out,  time  will 
show.  The  institution  claims  law,  and  has  the  credence  of 
the  people  outside,  which  gives  it  power.  I  have  my  sim 
ple  protest ;  and  the  protest  of  a  patient  is  —  that !  " 

He  snapped  his  thumb  and  finger  together,  with  a  school 
boy's  twirl ;  for  his  soul  was  irritated  with  his  situation,  out 
of  which  there  was  no  egress. 

Bella  learned  now  something  of  her  neighbors,  the  men 
who  were  imprisoned  in  their  own  departments.  She  had 
seen  them  in  the  chapel,  and  had  sometimes  had  glimpses 
of  them  through  the  windows  when  she  was  outside ;  but 
now,  for  the  first  time,  she  learned  of  their  inner  life,  as  Mr. 
Wright,  talking  low,  ventured  to  communicate. 

"  How  do  the  men  employ  themselves  ?  "  Bella  asked. 

He  glanced  carefully  around,  lest  some  attendant  might 
be  listening ;  then  he  said,  "  By  way  of  amusement,  tho 
most  popular  employment  is  playing  cards.  Rather  doubt 
ful  as  a  mental  improver  outside  of  here,  Miss  Forresst,  but 
considered  very  efficacious  within.  When  the  physician 
sees  a  company  engaged  in  it,  he  says,  'Ah,  glad  to  see 
that !  The  more  of  it  the  better.'  By  way  of  labor,  the 
occupations  are  various.  Washing  dishes  is  extensively 
used  as  a  mental  renovator.  If  wives  only  knew  how  ben 
eficial  this  employment  is  to  the  mind,  they  could  set  their 
husbands  at  it  at  home,  and  thus  save  the  expense  of  send 
ing  them  to  asylums.  Then  we  have  washing  windows, 
cleaning  paint,  knives,  floors,  brasses,  and  so  on.  Some  are 
detailed  to  the  laundry,  some  to  the  cook-room  ;  and  some 
are  permitted  to  go  outside  and  work  on  the  farm,  provided 
they  submit  themselves  to  their  overseers,  do  not  try  to  run 


164  BELLA  ; 

away,  and  work  faithfully  hoeing  and  digging  in  the  hot 
sun,  while  their  attendants  loll  and  lounge  on  the  ground, 
earning  their  money  by  watching  their  slaves.  This  is  said 
to  be  an  excellent  thing  for  the  patients  ;  and  land  is  pur 
chased  by  the  institution  purposely  for  this  labor.  If  its 
excellence  consists  in  toiling  in  the  hot  sun,  why  may  we 
not  work  in  free  life,  and  work  as  we  please,  where  the 
wages  would  be  our  own  ?  If  its  excellence  consists  in 
working  under  overseers  as  slaves,  I  must  say  I  beg  to  be 
excused  from  receiving  its  benefits.  It  would  not  agree 
with  my  constitution  to  cultivate  land  with  an  overseeing 
taskmaster  at  my  side.  I  should  bolt ;  and  then  I  should 
be  marched  back  to  my  cell. 

"  There  is  another  method  of  improving  the  minds  of 
men  here.  We  are  allowed  to  walk  out.  I  tried  it  once  in 
the  yard.  We  were  told  that  we  might  walk  up  and  down 
the  terraces,  provided  we  kept  on  the  front  of  the  house,  and 
within  view  of  our  walking  attendant.  Well,  I  began  the 
solemn  tread ;  but  scarce  had  gone  half  one  length  before 
the  attendant  came  down  upon  me  with  arms  uplifted,  a 
heavy  cane  flourishing  in  his  right  hand,  and  vociferating 
boisterously,  '  Back,  there,  back ! '  He  shouted  as  he  came 
near  me.  '  Back  to  the  next  terrace  !  This  is  too  near  the 
street ! '  I  quietly  stepped  back,  and  he  marched  on  to  the 
front  terrace  himself,  brandishing  his  cane  ;  and  there  he 
walked  back  and  forth  with  pompous  steps,  while  we  cow 
ered  humbly,  and  listlessly  paced  beneath  his  eyes.  I  tell 
you,  I  never  saw  so  abject  a  spectacle  ;  and  I  could  scarcely 
believe  myself  in  my  own  country.  I  do  not  know  by  what 
rule  of  mental  philosophy  physicians  prove  such  methods 
beneficial  to  their  patients,  in  this  enlightened,  independent 
country  ;  and  I  "  — 

"Ah,  Mr.  Wright !  you  seem  to  be  having  quite  a  chat 
with  Miss  Forresst,"  said  a  man's  voice  near. 


OR,  THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  165 

Mr.  Wright  looked  up.  The  supervisor  stood  there.  At 
the  same  instant  some  one  touched  Bella's  arm.  It  was 
the  matron.  "  Miss  Forresst,  there  is  a  lady  out  here 
wishes  to  be  introduced  to  you." 

Bella  followed  the  woman  outside  the  chapel,  and  here 
the  matron  paused.  "  Miss  Forresst,  I  am  shocked  at  you 
talking  so  long  with  that  man.  I  cannot  permit  such  an 
impropriety.  This  young  lady  will  take  you  back  to  your 
hall." 

A  tall,  stout  girl  here  stepped  forward,  and,  twirling  her 
keys,  deigned  to  speak.  "  This  way,  Miss  Forresst." 
This  was  said  in  a  tone  of  insolent  command.  Bella  fol 
lowed,  quietly  and  speechlessly ;  but  two  red  spots  burned 
in  her  cheeks. 

The  supervisor  disposed  of  Mr.  Wright  more  summarily, 
by  hissing  into  his  ear,  "  Dry  up  your  slang,  now,  or  you'll 
not  get  out  of  your  hall  again  ! " 

Thus  the  mutinous  conversation  was  suppressed,  and  the 
asylum  had  its  way.  Mr.  Wright  might  sit  his  lifetime  in 
his  cell,  thinking  of  his  struggling  wife  and  children  at 
home.  His  feelings  were  of  no  account.  He  was  a 
chattel  of  the  institution,  and  chattels  are  valuable  only 
for  the  gain  of  their  possessors. 

We  may  as  well  add  here  that  Mr.  Wright  did  continue 
to  sit  there.  Week  after  week,  and  month  after  month,  he 
waited  patiently  for  the  word  of  release.  He  was  an 
honorable,  law-abiding  man,  and  wanted  to  leave  the  place 
"  honorably,"  as  the  asylum  keepers  call  it.  Mrs.  Wright 
went  often  to  see  her  husband.  She  sent  him  to  this  insti 
tution  by  the  advice  of  her  doctor,  who  told  her  a  few 
weeks'  stay  would  be  sufficient.  It  was  sufficient,  but  not 
to  cure.  It  sufficed  to  reduce  him,  to  take  hope  and  health 
from  him.  Months  passed ;  and  the  superintendent  repeated 
to  her  the  hackneyed  phrase,  "He  is  doing  very  well. 


1G6  BELLA  ; 

A  little  longer  stay  will  be  sufficient."  She  told  this  to 
her  husband,  and  he  resigned  himself.  He  waited.  The 
hot  weather  came,  and  the  superintendent  told  him  he 
might  go  as  soon  as  it  was  cool.  He  waited  all  the  fall  for 
the  word  of  manumition,  but  no  such  word  was  spoken. 
Then  winter  drew  on ;  and,  when  Mrs.  Wright  came  again 
to  see  her  husband,  she  was  told  that  he  would  be  better  to 
stay  through  the  winter,  until  warm  weather  came.  He 
staid  on,  dragging  out  a  miserable  existence,  which  he 
endured  with  what  fortitude  he  could  summon.  His  wife 
paid  his  board  as  long  as  her  means  lasted  ;  but  the  failure 
of  money  gives  no  release  to  lunatic  prisoners,  whatever 
their  condition.  The  law  magnanimously  provides  for 
those  who  have  no  other  means  of  payment,  and  it  seems 
like  kindness ;  but  when,  practically,  this  charity  is  used 
for  the  purposes  of  gain  to  the  institutions,  it  becomes  a 
cruel  bondage  to  thousands  whose  board-money  thus  goes 
to  swell  the  asylum  coffers.  State  patients  are  small  in  cost 
within  asylums.  They  are  crowded  into  spaces  scarce 
larger  than  their  bodies ;  they  are  hustled  together 
in  rows;  the  corridors  become  miasmatic  with  their 
exhalations;  and  all  this  is  for  the  cure  of  their  minds! 
Such  situations  would  demoralize  the  finest  minds ! 
How,  then,  do  physicians  thus  expect  to  elevate  their 
lunatic  patients  ? 

Without  a  word  to  himself,  Mr.  David  Wright's  name 
was,  by  the  asylum  managers,  transferred  to  the  list  of 
poor  patients.  He  suspected  it.  He  knew  his  wife's 
resources,  and  knew  that  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  con 
tinue  to  pay  the  stipulated  sums ;  and,  though  no  one  told 
him,  he  felt  that  he  was  made  a  pauper  as  well  as  a 
prisoner.  The  thought  was  like  a  vulture  gnawing  at  hia 
vitals.  How  could  he  escape  ?  His  fetters  were  as  iron, 
and  his  mind  might  well  go  lunatic  under  his  trials.  But 


OR,   THE    CRADLE   OF   LIBERTY.  167 

what  cared  the  asylum?  He  counted  one;  and  each  .of 
these  ones  was  just  so  much  gain  to  the  institution.  Mr. 
Wright  grew  haggard,  and  his  clothes  became  shabby.  He 
felt  that  he  could  not  and  would  not  stay.  He  would  have 
freedom !  His  poor  wife  had  become  disheartened.  The 
brightness  of  her  eyes  was  dimmed.  The  prolonged  im 
prisonment  of  her  husband  led  her  to  fear  that  he  would 
never  be  well.  She  wept  when  she  saw  how  thin  and 
haggard  he  was  growing.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that 
scanty  and  improper  food,  constant  incarceration,  home 
sickness  and  heart-sickness,  were  the  powerful  stimulants 
that  were  wearing  her  husband  away  ;  but  he  knew  it,  and 
it  wore  upon  him.  By  stealthy  contrivings  he  managed  to 
get  at  some  points  of  law.  He  found  that  by  application 
to  the  judge  of  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court,  he  would  be 
entitled  to  a  hearing  or  trial,  as  to  his  sanity,  or  fitness  for 
release. 

But  who  would  make  application  for  him  ?  Should  he 
himself  send  out  a  letter  ?  Who  would  take  it  out  ?  N"ofc 
the  superintendent,  nor  any  of  the  asylum  officials.  When 
he  asked  them  to  help  him,  they  said,  "  Oh,  don't  hurry  ! 
Your  wife  will  take  you  out  some  time."  But  his  wife  was 
disheartened.  She  had  been  so  often  told,  "  He  had  better 
not  go  just  yet,"  that  she  fully  believed  the  "just  yet" 
would  never  come.  She  was  timid,  and  afraid  to  appeal  to 
so  dignified  a  personage  as  the  judge  of  the  Supreme  Court. 
This  law  thus  became  a  "dead  letter  "  to  Mr.  Wright.  He 
turned  then  to  lower  powers,  but  to  powers  that  were  abso 
lute  over  him.  He  appealed  to  the  trustees.  He  wrote  a 
letter  in  which  he  stated  his  case  clearly,  and  appealed  to 
them  to  give  him  a  hearing,  and,  if  it  should  be  proved 
that  he  was  not  insane,  to  release  him  from  his  •confine 
ment.  By.law  the  trustees  had  this  power;  but  in  practice 
their  power  was  of  no  avail,  for  they  immediately  referred 


168  BELLA  ; 

the  matter  to  the  superintendent,  and  he  assumed  his 
blandest  smile,  assuring  the  trustees  that  Mr.  Wright  was 
"a  very  nice"  man,  but,"  here  he  lowered  his  voice  signifi 
cantly,  "  better  off  where  he  is.  He  is  not  quite  right, 
gentlemen,"  he  continued  iii  the  same  tone,  "  not  quite 
right." 

Thus  the  case  ended,  though  Mr.  Wright  tried  again 
and  again  to  interest  the  trustees.  As  they  passed  through 
the  hall,  he  arose  and  spoke  to  them ;  and  he  prepared 
other  letters  which  he  put  into  their  hands,  but  they 
never  gave  any  attention  to  his  pleas.  The  opinion  of  the 
superintendent  governed  them.  They  never  asked  what 
motives  ruled  the  superintendent.  They  never  though't 
he  could  have  a  selfish  motive.  Time  went  by.  Lines  of 
disciplinary  sorrow  gathered  on  Mr.  Wright's  brow,  and 
deep  anguish  furrowed  his  cheeks.  He  walked  like  a  man 
under  fear,  and  his  whole  manner  was  subdued  and  hope 
less  ;  but  still  he  did  not  quite  give  up.  His  integrity 
and  purity  served  him  as  props,  and  bore  him  up.  He 
still  hoped  for  justice.  At  last  another  opportunity  offered, 
and  his  heart  leaped  for  it.  He  heard  there  was  a  law, 
that,  upon  complaint  of  any  person  confined  in  a  lunatic 
asylum,  or  other  place,  or  of  any  other  person  in  his 
behalf,  to  the  general  agent  of  the  Board  of  State  Charity, 
that  such  person  ought  no  longer  to  be  confined,  the  agent 
should  have  power  to  investigate  the  case,  make  report  to 
the  board,  and,  if  they  so  direct,  should  make  application 
to  the  justice  of  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court  for  the  dis 
charge  of  such  person.  Mr.  Wright  learned  of  this  law, 
and  again  he  wrote.  He  prepared  a  true  and  touching 
letter,  and  sent  it  out  to  mail  by  a  brother  patient  who  had 
the  privilege  of  going  about  town.  He  was  more  success 
ful  than  Bella,  when  she  sent  her  letter  by  a  patient ;  and 
his  letter  went.  It  was  received  by  the  person  to  whom  it 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  169 

was  sent,  and  was  made  the  subject  of  action.  A  hearing 
was  ordered  ;  and  Mr.  Wright,  pale  and  weary  with  his 
long  duress,  felt  happiness  once  more  surging  into  his  soul. 
Freedom  seemed  before  him.  Once  more  he  was  to  walk 
without  a  guard  watching  every  movement,  to  sit  at  a  table 
where  wholesome  varieties  of  food  would  invite  him,  and 
to  feel  that  he  was  a  man  among  men.  He  talked  of  his 
coming  liberty,  thought  of 'it  by  day,  and  dreamed  of  it  by 
night.  ,He  felt  a  halo  about  him  ;  and,  in  its  glow,  he  ex 
panded  till  his  face  seemed  renewed  and  glorified.  But 
alas  for  his  hopes  !  One  by  one  they  perished  ;  one  by  one 
they  withered  away.  Just  as  the  superintendent  influenced 
the  trustees  in  Mr.  Wright's  previous  efforts,  he  now  influ 
enced  the  Board  of  Charity.  How  could  they  gainsay  his 
smooth  words?  How  could  they  deny  his  assertion  that 
Mr.  Wright  was  unsuitable  to  go  ?  One  word  from  the 
superintendent  outweighed  all  other  testimony  in  the 
opinions  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  board.  They  said  to 
each  other,  "  Surely  the  doctor  knows  better  than  we." 

Thus  again  the  well-meaning  law  was  prostituted,  and 
became  as  blank  paper  to  this  long-suffering  patient.  He 
could  not  get  out  by  it.  The  asylum  had  more  power  over 
him  than  the  law ;  and  asylums  will  have  more  power  than 
law  as  long  as  the  words  of  the  officers  are  taken  for  abso 
lute  truth. 

Mr.  Wright  did  not  get  his  freedom.  He  still  sits  in  his 
cell,  a  tall,  gaunt  man,  in  seedy,  rusty  garments,  with  silver 
streaks  threading  his  hair.  His  wife  has  no  husband,  his 
children  are  fatherless.  The  superintendent  says,  "  He  is 
not  suitable  to  go." 

When  will  he  be  suitable  ?  When  will  his  mind  be  up 
lifted  from  its  pressure,  and  gladness  once  more  step  in  ? 
Not  while  he  dwells  within  these  walls,  a  prey  to  sadness, 
lonely,  desolate,  and  wretched,  among  men  as  desolate  as  he. 

15 


170  BELLA  ; 

Of  what  use  to  him  are  the  laws,  save  to  keep  him  for 
ever  in  prison  ?  To  be  effective,  laws  must  have  executors. 
How  can  patients,  shut  up  from  every  avenue  of  outer 
communication,  procure  executors  ?,  The  persons  who  are 
keepers  over  them  can  utterly  prevent  their  making  known 
their  situations ;  watching  them  with  a  closeness  that  pre 
cludes  letters,  or  any  message,  from  going  out.  There 
might  as  well  be  no  laws  for  the  release  of  such  persons ; 
such  laws  are  valueless,  except  to  show  the  fine  powers  of 
the  law-makers.  Practically  they  are  of  no  avail  to  per 
sons  held  in  locked  asylums.  Boards  of  charity,  judicial  wis 
dom,  and  legal  acumen,  can  all  be  thrust  aside,  and  rendered 
useless  by  ingenious  devices,  and  shrewd  management ; 
and  people  at  large  know  nothing  of  the  many  evasions. 
Laws  and  patients  all  glide  by  together,  while  the  printed 
reports,  and  suave  smiles  of  the  superintendents,  are  eager 
ly  accepted ;  and  the  patients  suffer  on,  each  in  his  or  her 
own  pinched  compartment.  "  It  would  be  better  to  abolish 
the  laws  for  shutting  in,  than,  being  shut  in  unjustly,  to 
find  no  way  out."  So  said  Mr.  Wright,  and  so  thought 
Bella  as  she  still  continued  looking  through  the  grates. 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  171 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

[UT  in  the  broad  lauds  where  west  winds  blow,  and 
civilization's  axe  cleaves  bold  strokes,  there  had 
stood  the  rude  cabin  of  a  settler.  Its  owner  was  a 
native  of  Norway,  who  had  come  from  Europe  with 
a  band  of  his  countrymen.  He  settled  with  them 
at  first ;  but,  straying  one  day  in  a  hunt  by  himself,  he 
chanced  upon  a  lovely,  isolated  spot,  one  of  Nature's  oases. 
It  flashed  in  sheen,  and  it  sang  the  hymns  of  the  ages ;  for 
a  stream  of  clear  water  purled  glitteringly  through  the  ver 
dure,  and  the  adjacent  "timber-land  "  echoed  the  wind-chor 
als  of  the  "  forest  primeval." 

The  attractions  of  the  place  caught  the  eye  of  the  Nor 
wegian.  The  trees  would  give  wood  for  his  fires ;  the 
stream  would  furnish  fish  for  food ;  while  the  fertile  banks 
invited  the  hoe  and  the  plough.  It  might  be  cold  in  win 
ter  ;  but  what  was  cold  or  snow  to  him  ?  Cold  was  his 
native  element ;  and  frost  and  ice  were  pastime  play 
things.  He  brought  his  wife  and  little  ones  to  this  place ; 
he  upturned  the  soil  by  his  own  strength ;  his  cabin  was 
filled  with  plenty  ;  and  peace  sat  at  his  fireside.  But  there 
is  one  law  of  Nature  to  which  all  must  bow.  It  passed  its 
hand  over  him.  His  wife  became  a  widow,  his  children 
were  fatherless.  The  "  neighbors  "  talked  about  it.  They 
were  miles  away ;  but  still  they  were  neighbors,  and  knew 
the  widow  wanted  to  sell  her  improvements,  and  go  to  a 
settlement  of  her  countrymen. 


172  BELLA  ; 

This  was  a  subject  of  conversation  among  the  scat  lered 
families,  as  Capt.  Beale  and  his  little  company  were  search 
ing  and  inquiring  for  a  location  suited  to  their  wants. 

"  Stranger,"  said  a  rough-bearded,  roughly-dressed  man, 
with  a  shock  of  grizzly  hair  covering  his  head,  and  a  flap 
ping  specimen  of  a  hat  surmounting  that,  "  I  reckon  I 
know  the  place  that'll  suit  ye.  It's  a  moity  fine  sitooation : 
a  leetle  out  o'  the  way,  perhaps,  jest  now,  but  la  !  Ye  can't 
git  fur  out  o'  the  way  in  this  yer  country.  Ef  ye  try  to 
be  by  yerself,  the  fust  ye  know,  there's  a  city  behind  ye. 
This  is  a  big  country,  stranger.  We  don't  have  no  hills  a 
cuttin'  off  the  'rizon  as  they  say  they  do  in  that  ar  New 
England,  whar  I  reckon  you  hail  from.  Why,  I've  heern 
tell  that  them  ar  hills  are  so  high,  that  a  man  can't  see  but 
seventeen  acres  of  sky  ter  one  time  !  " 

The  speaker  cocked  his  old  felt  hat,  and  cast  up  his  eye  at 
the  same  time,  to  see  what  effect  his  remarks  had  produced., 
The  captain  replied  pleasantly,  "I  don't  much  like  your 
hit  at  New  England,  my  friend.  I  have  grown  up  there ; 
and  I  like  the  hills,  the  sky,  and  the  people.  But  every 
man  has  a  right  to  praise  his  own  country,  and  I  am  sure 
I  have  no  wish  to  speak  disparagingly  of  yours.  I  have 
come  here  to  find  a  home;  and,  if  you  will  pilot  me  and  my 
friends  to  this  place  you  have  mentioned,  I  will  see  you 
well  paid." 

Under  the  guidance  of  this  man,  the  party  reached  the 
little  spot ;  and,  as  it  had  charmed  the  Norwegian,  it  now 
charmed  the  New  Englanders.  Its  beauties  were  not  of 
the  prairie  type,  but  of  that  undulating  character  that  never 
wearies  by  monotony. 

Trading,  in  this  case,  was  not  a  haggling,  but  a  matter 
of  pleasant  intercourse.  The  widow  was  ready  to  sell  at 
any  price ;  the  young  men,  full  of  chivalrous  honor,  were 
ready  to  empty  their  purses  for  one  upon  whose  sorrows 


*  OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  173 

they  looked  with  sympathetic  pity.  Between  the  two  over- 
generous  parties,  the  Westerner  came  with  his  knowledge 
of  valuation  ;  and,  by  his  aid,  the  transfer  was  successfully 
completed.  The  Norwegian  cabin  on  the  isle  of  beauty 
became  the  property  of  Capt.  Beale  and  Ed\vard  Forresst. 
The  widow  went  to  her  people,  and  the  New-England 
family  settled  in  her  place.  Emily  became  housekeeper; 
and  Elijah,  the  carpenter,  worked  on  the  buildings  with  a 
carpenter's  eye  and  hand. 

Jack  was  in  ecstasies.  The  place  to  him  had  all  the 
charms  of  fairy  romance.  He  peeped  around  into  the 
corners  and  crevices,  within  and  without.  He  was  up  and 
down  the  banks  of  the  stream,  and  plunged  into  the  glens 
of  the  wood. 

"  It's  cute,"  he  said  with  a  grin  ;  "  and,  when  you  get  her 
here,  cap'u,  we'll  sing,  '  Oh,  be  joyful ! '  all  the  time." 

Bella  was  Jack's  ideal  of  womanhood.  From  the  first, 
in  the  Shaker  family,  he  had  invested  her  with  the  most 
wondrous  halos ;  and  the  glory  still  lingered  about  her. 
He  admired  the  captain  chiefly  because  he  was  Bella's 
chosen.  Jack  thought  he  must  be  different  from  other  men, 
or  she  would  never  have  liked  him ;  and  all  Jack's  plans 
looked  prospectively  to  the  time  when  she  should  come  to 
their  home.  It  was,  indeed,  the  era  for  which  they  all 
planned.  In  reconstructing  the  house,  Elijah  was  ever 
thinking,  "  How  would  Miss  Bella  like  it  ?  Would  she 
have  it  this  way,  or  would  she  have  it  that?"  while  Mor 
timer  and  Edward  were  asking  each  other,  "  How  soon 
shall  we  have  the  means  to  take  our  brides  ?  " 

Into  this  home,  with  pleasant  surprise,  came  Bella's  let 
ters,  announcing  that  she  and  her  mother  were  coming,  fur 
niture  and  all.  The  Western  cabin  was  full  of  happiness 
then.  The  very  rafters  vibrated  with  the  echoes  of  joy. 

15* 


174  BELLA  ;  * 

Jack  crowed  like  a  Yankee  cock-a-doodle,  and  Emily's  face 
lighted  up  with  delight. 

"  This  is  scarcely  a  fit  place  for  mother's  furniture,"  said 
Edward  thoughtfully. 

"  We  will  make  it  better  sooner  than  you  expect,"  Elijah 
replied,  his  eyes  kindling  with  energy. 

The  captain  was  silent ;  but  his  thoughts  were  busy. 
"  At  last,  at  last,  I  am  to  be  happy." 

He  felt  that  his  day-star  had  arisen,  and  in  his  soul  a 
new  morn  was  appearing.  "  At  last,"  he  repeated,  "  I  arn 
to  begin  life.  What  has  been  my  life  hitherto  ?  A  speck, 
a  moiety.  What  shall  be  my  life  henceforth  ?  One  eternal 
rhapsody.  Thank  God !  I  will  write  to  her,  and  bid  her 
welcome." 

"  Ah  !  upon  my  honor." 

Mr.  Frederic  Forresst  held  an  open  letter.  His  upper 
lip  was  taking  its  peculiar  curve,  and  the  mustache  was  at 
angles.  The  letter  bore  a  Western  post-mark.  He  read 
on,  and  then  commented.  "  This  is  the  cream  of  love's 
eloquence.  Capt.  Mortimer  pours  out  sentiment  like  a 
romancer.  He  will  have  time  to  cool  before  it  is  answered. 
My  foolish  little  sister  must  have  a  different  letter."  Then 
he  tossed  this  into  his  drawer,  and  sent  her  the  paper  of 
guardianship.  Her  Western  letters  she  had  no  more 
chance  of  receiving  than  if  she  had  been  in  a  monarchical 
stronghold.  Frederic  met  every  emergencj''  with  perfect 
skill,  aided  by  these  institutions,  and  in  secret  muttered 
his  old  oath,  "Never,  never,  shall  Chauncey  Beale  or  his 
progeny  inherit  one  penny  of  my  father's  property." 

Then  he  gave  his  shoulders  a  shrug,  and  his  mustache 
another  twitch.  "  Grand  institutions  these  are  !  Once  in 
them,  and  you  are  snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug.  How  would 
people  manage  their  crazy  friends  without  them  ?  " 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  1.75 

Mr.  Forresst  went  home  after  this  peroration,  and  the 
tip  of  his  cane  tapped  cheerily  at  every  impediment  in 
his  path.  He  entered  his  elegant  house  in-  a  particularly 
amiable  mood,  and  rested  his  invincible  person  on  a  velvet 
lounge,  where  he  meditated  in  a  self-satisfied  frame  of 
mind. 

"  Upon  my  honor  !  Does  Chauncey  Beale's  son  expect 
to  get  the  better  of  me  ?  " 

Meantime  the  home-circle  grew  anxious.  Letters  from 
Bella  had  ceased.  A  letter  from  the  old  mother,  written 
tremblingly,  informed  them  that  Bella  was  ill,  and  had 
gone  into  the  country  for  her  health.  Poor  old  mother ! 
Overcome  by  the  fate  that  had  overtaken  Bella,  how  could 
she  write  otherwise  than  as  Frederic  dictated  ? 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  the  girl  is  insane." 

"  It  will  break  their  hearts  out  West !  It  will  break  my 
heart !  "  she  answered. 

"No,  mother!  You  must  summon  more  fortitude.  As 
to  Edward,  tell  him  she  is  ill,  and  gone  into  the  country  for 
improvement.  Upon  my  honor !  She  causes  us  all  suffi 
cient  trouble." 

"  111  —  gone  into  the  country  for  her  health  —  but  why 
does  not  she  write  to  us  ?  " 

That  was  the  light,  out  West,  in  which  the  matter  was 
discussed.  And  the  days  passed  on,  giving  them  no  more 
news.  Summer  melted  into  autumn,  autumn  faded  into 
the  cold  that  precedes  winter.  November  whistled  in  pre 
monitions,  and  still  there  were  no  more  tidings.  Anxiety 
came  in,  and  settled  as  a  guest  in  the  family.  They  con 
sulted  and  surmised. 

"  She  has  yielded  to  Frederic,  and  given  me  up,"  said 
Mortimer  in  a  discouraged  tone. 

Edward  clinched  his  fist.  "  More  likely  he  has  got  her 
into  some  tight  place,  —  the  convent  or  Shakers  again." 


176  BELLA  ; 

"  And  there  is  no  Elijah  there  to  help  her,"  said  the  car 
penter  moodily. 

"  By  jingo  and  all  the  coons,"  exclaimed  Jack,  starting 
up.  "  If  they  have  got  lier  again  !  Just  give  me  the 
rhino,  cap'n  ;  and  I'll  go  there,  and  dig  her  out,  as  surely 
as  I  live  to  get  there." 

Mortimer  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  boy,  and  then  slowly 
said,  "  I  have  a  mind  to  go  myself,  Jack." 

"No,  no,"  Edward  responded  quickly.  "  This  is  Fred's 
doings.  You  are  no  match  for  him.  It  takes  a  Forresst 
to  manage  a  Forresst.  I  will  go  myself." 

"You,  Edward!  No.  It  is  I  who  have  caused  her 
trouble.  It  is  for  her  truth  to  me  that  she  suffers.  Let  me 
go  and  work  for  her,  or  suffer  with  her." 

Edward  laughed.  "  Come,  this  is  no  time  for  sentiment. 
Let  the  one  go  who  can  be  most  successful.  I  think  I  un 
derstand  my  family  better  than  you  do.  I  have  the  same 
blood  as  Fred ;  and  I'll  fight  him  with  his  own  cool 
weapons." 

"And  I  am  poor,"  said  Mortimer  moodily, 

"Pshaw,  now!  What  matters  it  who  has  the  money, 
you  or  I  ?  You  have  been  as  a  brother  to  me  since  we 
toddled  out  of  our  cradles,  and  played  horse  astride  our 
sticks  together.  Do  you.  think  I  am  going  to  desert  you 
now  ?  Besides,  there  is  my  Kate,  you  know.  I  haven't 
made  a  spread  about  her;  but,  ever  since  I  have  had  her  ac 
quaintance,  she  has  been  in  my  deepest  thoughts,  and  we 
may  as  well  be  married  now  as  ever.  So  I'll  come  back 
with  my  own  bride  and  yours." 

"  Jolly !  "  said  Jack.  "  You  are  the  man  for  us.  You 
are  Bella's  own  brother." 

"  That  is  what  I  am,  Jack.  So  lend  a  hand,  all  of  you, 
and  I  will  be  off." 

The  "leetle  out  o'  the  way,"  of  which  their  guide  spoko 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF   LIBERTY.  177 

I 

when  he  told  them  of  the  Norwegian's  home,  was  just 

enough  to  make  the  mails  a  rarity  not  enjoyed  every  day ; 
hut,  the  day  after  this  conference,  Elijah  undertook  the  task 
of  going  to  the  distant  post-town  for  family  supplies,  and 
also  because  there  might  be  letters  in  waiting.  He  found 
the  precious  missives ;  and  when  he  had  brought  them  home, 
and  laid  them  on  the  plain  table,  the  household  gathered 
as  to  a  feast.  Among  them  was  a  square  envelope  of  large 
dimensions,  not  scrupulously  clean,  and  covered  with  "pot 
hooks  and  angles." 

"That  is  from  Harry,"  said  Edward.  "Let's  see  what 
the  old  fellow  has  to  say." 

He  read  it  aloud,  while  the  company  listened. 

"  BOSTON,  Nov.  16,  18—. 

"MY  DEAR  NED, —  As  the  girls  say,  I  take  my  pen  in 
hand  to  inform  you,  —not  in  girl's  language,  however,  that 
there  is  some  confounded  villany  at  work.  Bella  is  in  an 
insane  asylum.  I  "  — 

"  Hold  !  "  groaned  Mortimer.  "  It  cannot  be  !  Read  it 
again."  And  Edward  read  it  again ;  but  it  was  just  the 
same,  and  he  went  on  :  "I  have  just  come  down  from  the 
Aroostook,  and  am  not  posted  in  the  way  the  thing  was  done  ; 
but  Fred  has  managed  it,  and  we  must  manage  over  him.  If 
she  is  insane,  Fred  has  made  her  so.  If  you  or  Mortimer 
want  to  do  any  thing  about  it,  let  it  be  quick.  You  will 
find  me  on  your  side.  HARRY." 

Edward  folded  the  letter,  and  said  solemnly,  "  Let  me 
be  off." 

Two  days  after,  as  the  November  cold  blew  over  the 
prairies,  and  the  iron  horse  steamed  his  way  Eastward  whilo 
the  breath  of  his  nostrils  curled  in  the  frosty  air,  the  noise 
of  his  iron  feet  echoed  in  the  ears  of  Edward  Forresst.  He 
was  on  his  homeward  mission. 


178  BELLA  ; 

/ 

Shall  we  say  that  Mortimer  was  weak  and  deficient  in 
duty  toward  Bella  during  all  this  time  ?  We  say  nothing 
on  that  point.  We  give  the  facts,  and  leave  others  to  cen 
sure  or  vindicate  him,  as  they  choose.  Our  pen  has  other 
dutiea. 


OB,  THE  CEADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  179 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

HE  cold  and  frost  and  dreariness  of  November  deep 
ened  around  the  asylum.  Within,  the  pipes  were 
full  of  steam,  and  the  furnaces,  were  kept  full  of 
burning  coal.  The  galleries  were  comfortably  warm; 
but  the  opened  cells  had  only  the  warmth  that  came 
through  the  doorways,  and  the  locked  cells  had  no  warmth 
at  all.  Those  •  who  sat  lo*cked  into  them  sat  shivering, 
with  not  a  soul  to  whom  they  could  speak,  and  not  a  single 
diversion  to  occupy  their  minds,  or  turn  their  attention 
from  the  thoughts  of  their  own  distress.  Bella  looked 
through  between  her  iron  bars,  and  saw  the  trees  with  their 
naked  branches,  and  the  brown  earth  bare  and  desolate. 
No  letter  had  come  to  her.  The  letters  that  had  come  from 
the  West  had  fallen  into  her  guardian's  hands,  and  had 
gone  into  his  private  drawer.  Bella  longed  for  a  letter, 
for  one  little  word  from  her  friends  ;  and  said  to  the  assist 
ant  physician,.  "  Doctor,  I  think  of  my  mother  all  the  time. 
She  loved  me,  and  she  is  an  old  lady.  I  think  her  heart 
will  be  so  sad  for  me." 

"Why  don't  you  write  to  her?"  asked  the  physician. 
"  Of  what  use  is  it  ?  I  have  tried  writing  letters  in  this 
place." 

"  Oh,  but  you  were  writing  very  improper  letters  !  You 
were  writing  against  us,  and  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  your 
guardian." 

"  My  brother  Frederic  has  no  right  to  make  himself  my 


180  BELLA  ; 

guardian.  He  shut  me  up  here;  and  now  does  just  as  he 
pleases  with  all  my  property,  and  nobody  seems  to  care." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Miss  Forresst !  "VVe  do  care.  We  do  not  wish 
to  see  injustice.  Write  a  good  letter  to  your  mother,  just 
such  a  letter  as  will  make  her  happy,  and  we  will  send  it. 
Don't  fill  it  with  complaints,  but  tell  her  you  are  doing 
nicely,  and  mean  to  try  to  do  well,  and  hope  you  will  be 
well  enough  to  go  back  to  her  by  and  by,  and  conform  to 
the  wishes  of  your  friends." 

"  Doctor,"  said  Bella,  "  it  would  be  a  series  of  false 
hoods." 

But  she  considered  the  matter;  and  there  in  her  loneliness 
she  concluded  to  write.  "  Dear  mother  will  be  glad  of  any 
thing  from  my  pen,"  was  her  thought. 

But  it  was  not  easy  to  say  just  what  the  doctor  advised 
her :  she  could  not  be  so  false  ;  and  she  wrote  in  her  own 
way,  telling  her  mother  how  much  she  thought  of  her,  and 
keeping  silent  as  regarded  herself. 

"It  may  not  be  a  lie,  but  it  is  all  a  suppression  of 
truth,"  she  observed,  when  she  handed  it  to  the  doctor  at 
his  next  round.  "  Read  it,  please,  and  tell  me  whether  it 
will  answer." 

"It  is  a  very  good  letter,  Miss  Forresst.  I  knew  you 
could  write  properly  if  you  tried." 

"  It  is  just  the  same  as  a  lie,  doctor.  There  is  nothing 
true  in  it." 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  You  are  not  in  your  right  mind  yet. 
Things  look  queer  to  you," 

That  was  the  only  letter  she  succeeded  in  getting  out  of 
the  building.  She  could  not  and  would  not  write  soft, 
smooth  letters,  such  as  many  patients  stooped  to  write,  just 
for  the  sake  of  getting  a  message  to  their  friends.  "It 
must  be  truth  or  nothing,"  she  said,  "  if  I  write." 

Having  all  these  restrictions  about  her,  being  compelled 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  181 

to  stay  where,  day  and  night,  she  continued  to  see  and 
hear  this  life,  her  intelligent  young  mind  roused  into  re 
newed  activity.  She  broke  the  hounds  of  prescribed  silence, 
and  criticised  openly.  She  even  defied  the  supervisor  ;  and 
one  day,  when  an  act  of  injustice  passed  before  her,  she 
went  boldly  to  the  woman,  and  confronted  her  face  to  face. 
She  laid  her  hands  on  the  two  shoulders  of  the  employee ; 
and,  looking  straight  into  her  eyes,  she  said,  "  Do  you  know 
what  you  are  about  ?  Do  you  realize  that  these  women  are 
locked  in  here  without  power  to  get  out,  or  to  escape  from 
your  temper  or  cruelties  ?  What  is  it  that  you  mean  ?  " 

For  a  moment  the  woman's  eyes  fell ;  then  she  said, 
"  You  know  nothing  about  it,  Miss  Forresst.  You  do  not 
know  how  I  am  tried  and  aggravated  and  worried." 

"  I  do  know ;  I  see  it  all ;  but  I  also  know,  that,  if  you 
were  kinder  and  less  arbitrary,  you  would  have  far  fewer 
troubles,  for  we  should  all  like  you  better." 

There  were,  in  this  hall,  many  "chronic  cases,"  as  they 
are  called ;  and  Bella  did  not  wonder  they  were  chronic. 
Said  a  workman  who  was  repairing  the  hall,  "I  have  work 
ed  for  this  institution  twelve  years;  and,  during  all  that  time, 
that  woman  has  sat  in  that  chair."  He  pointed  to  a  woman 
near. 

Can  we  imagine  it?  For  twelve  years  that  woman  had 
sat  in  that  one  chair,  eating  her  food  from  a  corner  of  a 
table  that  was  guiltless  of  a  cloth,  sleeping  on  one  of  those 
narrow  cots  that  are  put  into  the  halls  at  night,  and  never 
did  she  ride  or  walk.  And  yet  she  was  not  old  nor  a  crip^ 
pie  nor  ill,  but  seemed  stricken  with  mental  apathy:  was 
it  wonderful  that  that  apathy  increased? 

By  the  workings  of  the  inner  machinery,  those  who  most 
need  privileges  and  attentions  get  the  fewest.  There  are 
carriages  kept  for  patients  to  ride,  but  only  the  best  dress 
ed  and  healthy  go  in  them.  The  same  rule  prevails  with 
16 


182  BELLA  ; 

walking,  choice  of  rooms,  and  amusements.  Those  who 
most  need  these  recuperative  agents  are  most  deprived. 
The  best-furnished  rooms  are  given  to  the  employees  or 
servants,  except  in  a  few  cases  where  the  friends  of  some 
person  pay  large  prices,  and  make  frequent  visits  to  see 
that  the  patient  gets  what  was  agreed. 

Bella  could  not  see  the  justice  of  these  things ;  and,  as 
the  system  was  more  fully  revealed  to  her  by  her  prolonged 
stay,  she  became  bolder  in  speech.  She  reasoned  with  the 
matron,  close-questioned  the  assistant  doctor,  and  remon 
strated  with  the  superintendent.  "  I  wish,"  he  remarked, 
"  that  people  would  not  put  these  intelligent  women  into 
my  institution.  I  do  not  want  them." 

This  remark  was  overheard,  and  carried  to  Bella.  "  Tell 
him,"  she  replied,  "  that  these  intelligent  women  do  not 
want  to  be  here." 

Persons  of  sensitive,  high-nerved  temperaments,  confined 
within  restricted  spaces,  are' often  subject  to  peculiar  hor 
rors  and  strange  sensations,  that  induce  them  to  march,  or 
pace  back  and  forth,  or  go  in  circuits,  swift  or  slow,  accord 
ing  to  their  natures.  It  is  not  alone  the  insane  who  do 
this ;  but  it  is  an  impulse  that  seizes  the  rational  and 
healthy  when  held  in  small,  close  spaces.  We  read  of  pris 
oners  in  despotic  countries,  who  have  channelled  paths  in 
their  stone  floors.  In  asylums,  we  do  not  have  stone  floors ; 
but  the  patients  pace,  nevertheless,  and  often  to  their  own 
destruction.  We  may  call  this  the  prison-march  ;  or  \ve 
may  call  it  the  death-march,  since  it  leads  to  death  of  the 
soul.  Those  who  follow  it  long  can  never  be  the  same 
afterwards.  It  becomes  an  infatuation,  an  outlet  to  the  re 
pressed  emotions.  At  first  it  seems  like  a  relief;  in  the 
end  it  becomes  paralysis,  or  wildness,  or  slow  sinking  into 
apathy,  or  death :  its  termination  depends  upon  the  peculiar 
natures  of  the  individuals  attacked.  Patients  are  often 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  183 

seized  with  it,  and  often  walk  till  their  nerves  are  overcome. 
In  this  asylum  an  educated,  accomplished  lady  was  seized 
by  these  sensations.  Her  friends  had  been  to  visit  her  one 
day.  "  She  is  doing  finely,"  said  the  superintendent. 
"  She  will  go  home  soon."  The  friends  went  home  de 
lighted.  The  word  "  soon  "  seemed  encouraging ;  but  to 
the  lady  it  had  a  different  sound.  She  had  known  that 
\vjrd  prolonged  to  weeks,  from  weeks  to  months,  and  thence 
to  years,  when  applied  to  other  patients.  When  her  friends 
were  gone,  she  asked  the  superintendent,  "Doctor,  what  do 
you  mean  by  soon  ?  When  shall  I  go  ?  " 

It  was  evening  when  she  asked  this.    He  replied,  "  Don't 
worry !     You  will  go  when  you  are  better." 

The  lady's  heart  was  stirred  with  deep,  repressed  emo 
tions.  She  could  not  sleep  that  night.  The  next  day  she 
began  to  pace  from  the  piano  to  the  wall,  and  from  the  wall 
back  to  the  piano.  In  a  few  days  she  paced  up  and  down 
the  hall,  and  then  in  her  room.  Her  senses  seemed  to* 
benumb,  and  fail  her.  The  attendants  began  to  make  sport 
of  her,  then  to  weary  of  her ;  and  then  they  turned  her  out 
into  a  back-yard.  The  enclosure  resembled  an  old-fash 
ioned  impounding  yard  for  unruly  cattle.  There  was  a  tree 
in  the  centre.  She  walked  around  and  around  this  tree  till 
her  feet  channelled  a  path  in  the  earth.  Then  she  sat 
down  weary  and  listless.  Two  sides  of  the  yard  were  made 
by  the  walls  of  the  asylum  wings ;  and  crumbs  were  some 
times  thrown  down  from  the  windows.  Out  from  beneath 
the  building,  rats  came.  They  ran  across  the  woman's  feet. 
She  had  no  energy  or  power  to  drive  them  away  :  but  she 
envied  them  their  freedom  ;  and,  when  she  saw  them  run 
out  at  apertures  beneath  the  fence,  she  thought  them  the 
happiest  of  creatures.  Faces  came  to  the  windows,  and 
looked  down  at  her ;  and  she  could  hear  people  say,  "  Who 
is  that  poor  crazy  thing  ?  "  In  her  heart  she  answered, 


184  BELLA ; 

"Who  am  I  ?  What  does  it  matter  now  who  I  am  ?  The 
beauty  of  my  life  is  flown,  —  the  friends  who  knew  me  will 
know  me  no  more  forever ! "  Now  she  is  a  hopeless 
maniac. 

Wearied,  worried,  and  worn,  Bella  was  seized  with  this 
infatuation.  An  old  lady  flew  to  her  in  alarm.  "  My  dear 
girl,  do  not  walk !  I  beg  you  to  stop  !  It  will  injure  you 
beyond  recall ! " 

"  But  I  cannot  keep  still." 

"  You  must  keep  still.  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  asy 
lum  life  ;  and  I  never  saw  one  get  well  after  long  continu 
ance  of  this  death-march.  Do  not  begin  it.  Hold  yourself 
quiet  by  some  means.  I  know  these  hardships,  my  dear, 
by  sad  experience ;  but  do  not  try  to  walk  them  off.  You 
will  walk  yourself  into  irretrievable  ruin." 

The  old  lady  saved  another  at  the  same  time.  A  woman 
of  middle  life  had  sat  three  years  in  her  cell  without  yield 
ing  to  this  impulse.  Then  she  arose,  and  began  to  walk,  to 
and  fro,  to  and  fro,  while  her  countenance  assumed  a  pallor 
and  rigidity  as  of  death.  The  old  lady  went  to  her,  and 
took  her  hands  in  hers.  "Don't  you  know,  my  dear,  what 
you  are  doing  ?  Have  you  been  here  all  this  time  without 
seeing  the  effects  of  this  marching?" 

"  I  have  seen,"  said  the  woman.  "  I  know  ;  but  I  must 
walk.  When  I  came  here  they  told  me  I  was  to  stay  three 
months.  I  have  sat  still  three  years.  Now  let  rne  walk. 
For  what  should  I  live?  To  stay  here  another  three 
years  ?  I  would  sooner  lie  down  in  my  grave,  and  have  it 
over.  I  wish  they  had  laid  me  on  a  funeral  pyre  before 
they  brought  me  here.  I  would  rather  be  hung  from  the 
gallows ;  for  then  the  struggle  would  soon  end.  Give  me 
any  thing  rather  than  this  long,  slow-torturing,  prison- 
life." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  old  lady,  —  and  an  inexpressible  pain 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  185 

passed  over  her  brow,  —  "I  know  all  the  trials  of  this  place. 
Yes,  yes,  I  know,  — 

'  But  still  I  say  to  thee, 
Fear  not,  but  trust  in  Providence, 
Wherever  thou  may'st  be.' 

Do  not  walk  the  walk  of  ruin.     Do  not  lose  your  God." 

"  God "  —  said  the  woman,  and  she  did  pause  then. 
"  He  is  not  within  these  walls.  He  stops  outside." 

"  No ! "  said  the  old  lady.  "  He  stops  not.  He  is 
here." 

"  But  his  laws  are  not  here.     His  truth  is  not  here." 

"True,"  the  old  lady  replied.  "His  truth  cannot  dwell 
under  such  rules  as  govern  this  place  ;  but  still  I  find  him 
here.  Come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  him  to  thee." 

Then  gently  the  old  lady  led  her  to  her  own  room ;  and 
Bella  heard  the  words  of  Holy  Writ,  and  the  voice  of 
prayer.  And  her  heart  said,  "  O  .  Father  !  teach  me  also 
to  pray,  that  I  may  trust  in  thee,  aud  be  quiet  under  this, 
my  great  calamity." 

The  officers  of  asylums  never  mind  this  march.  They 
see  patients  pace  and  pace,  and  never  take  any  notice  of 
them,  or  try  to  check  the  fatal  proceeding.  It  is  considered 
"  a  part  of  their  insanity."  And  when  the  suffering  victims 
are  worn  haggard  or  into  wildness,  they  are  put  down  into 
lower  halls,  to  be  counted  among  the  lost,  living  in  wretch 
edness,  agony,  and  woe. 

The  old  lady  who  saved  Bella  had  saved  many  others 
from  yielding  to  this  impulse.  She  was  a  kind  old  woman, 
and  her  sympathies  were  tender ;  but  she  could  not  always 
keep  patients  bright  and  happy  in  such  isolation.  Nor 
could  Bella  always  endure.  She  felt  exhausted  and  faint 
with  accumulated  trials ;  and,  though  she  had  learned  the 
hullowness  of  official  promises,  yet  she  could  do  no  better, 
and  once  more  appealed  to  the  superintendent. 

16* 


186  .  BELLA  ; 

"  Doctor,  when  shall  I  get  out  of  here  ?  " 

He  turned  toward  her,  and  replied,  — 

"  When  you  give  up  your  foolish  notions." 

"  What  notions  ?  " 

"  About  that  man,  I  suppose." 

Her  eyes  flashed.  The  Montague  blue  shone  out  from 
the  black,  and  the  old  English  blood  quickened  in  her 
American  soul.  She  flung  back  her  raven  curls  with  a  toss 
of  her  head,  and  the  physician  was  startled  as  she  looked 
at  him  with  her  awakened  nature. 

"  If  you  mean  Mortimer  Beale,"  she  said,  "  and  that  I 
am  to  stay  here  till"  I  give  up  my  thoughts  of  him,  you  will 
keep  me  till  the  end  of  my  life;  for  neither  you  nor  any 
other  person,  neither  this  nor  any  other  place,  will  ever 
drive  him  from  my  mind.  You  cannot  force  me." 

"  We  do  riot  wish  to  force  you,  Miss  Forresst.  We  wish 
you  to  use  your  own  good  sense  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  but 
you  will  come  out  right  by  and  by." 

Bella  thought  long  on  this  conversation.  She  seemed  to 
have  a  revelation  by  it.  "  So  I  am  to  stay  here  till  I  give 
up  my  'notions '  about  Mortimer,  and  I  can  never  do  that. 
I  have  known  him  from  childhood.  He  is  part  of  my  life. 
They  may  as  well  ask  me  to  forget  my  mother,  and  Edward, 
and  myself,  and  my  God !  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  repre 
sentation  has  been  made  to  the  doctor." 

The  days  grew  short  and  cold,  and  the  nights  were 
long  and  tedious.  The  sounds  of  lamentation  within,  the 
mournful  winds  without,  the  narrow  room,  and  her  own  sad 
heart,  made  the  nights  into  periods  of  dread,  when  thought 
piled  on  thought,  and  time  seemed  bitterness,  and  the  "  sil 
ver  clouds  "  lost  their  lining,  and  the  "  golden  bowl "  of 
hope  was  broken. 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  187 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

HE  street  was  broad  and  airy,  the  houso  modern 
and  elegant;  and  the  sea-breezes,  floating  inward, 
brought  with  them  their  own  savory  freshness. 
Mrs.  Nellie  Bergmann  lived  in  one  of  the  pleasant 
parts  of  Brooklyn,  and  was  herself  an  ornament  to 
the  place.  She  had  her  own  standard  by  which  she  meas 
ured  society ;  and  Mr.  Frederic  need  have  no  fear  but  her 
standard  was  high  enough  to  suit  his  most  fastidious  taste. 
She  was  the  personification  of  grace  in  manner,  as  she 
reclined  in  her  cushioned1- 'chair  in  conversation  with  the 
young  man  by  her  side.  His  ruddy  cheeks,  full  chest,  and 
healthy  physique  bespoke  a  man  of  the  open  air,  one  who 
dwelt  in  it,  and  inhaled  it,  till  his  soul  was  broad  as  the 
world,  and  his  heart  open  as  the  day.  He  had  been  speak 
ing;  and  Mrs.  Bergmann  replied,  "  Indeed,  Edward,  you 
must  not  tell  him." 

"But,  Nellie,  if  Bella  is  insane,  your  husband  is  the  one 
to  know  it.  He  is  a  man  of  judgment,  and  a  skilful  phy 
sician.  Let  her  case  be  submitted  to  him  at  once." 

"  But  think  of  the  disgrace,  Edward." 

"  What  disgrace  ?  " 

"Of  having  my  husband  know  that  she  is  insane." 

"  I  see  no  disgrace.  If  she  has  gone  out  of  her  mind, 
there  is  a  cause  for  it.  Let  us  search  for  the  cause.  If  it 
is  physical  illness,  who  can  prescribe  more  learnedly  than 
your  husband?  If  Frederic  has  driven  her  to  insanity,  the 


BELLA ; 

disgrace  is  his.  Let  us  attend  to  him."  Mrs.  Nellie  ad 
justed  the  lace  on  her  wrist,  thus  displaying  a  diamond 
ring,  and  a  marvellously  beautiful  bracelet.  Then  she  said, 
"Edward,  I  do  hope  you  will  not  mention  this  to  my  hus 
band.  He  heartily  despises  family  disagreements." 

"  Very  well,"  the  young  man  responded,  rising.  "  I  have 
hastened  East  purposely  to  aid  my  imprisoned  sister.  If  I 
can  be  of  no  service  to  her  here,  I  will  leave  my  regards 
for  your  husband,  and  go  on  to  try  what  next  I  can  do." 

"  But  you  will  stay  and  dine  ?  " 

"No.  I  think  aloud  sometimes:  I  might  unfortunately 
say  something  that  would  shock  you.  I  should  be  think 
ing  of  Bella :  I  might  speak  my  thoughts." 

"  You  think  too  favorably  of  her,  Edward.  She  has 
caused  us  all  great  trouble  by  her  obstinacy." 

"  You  mean  that  you  have  caused  her  great  trouble  by 
your  meddling,"  returned  Edward. 

Mrs.  Nellie  tapped  her  foot  impatiently,  precisely  as  she 
used  to  tap  it  when  she  was  Miss  Nellie  Forresst,  except 
that  now  she  tapped  it  beneath  a  slipper  of  greater  elegance, 
and  on  a  carpet  of  more  costly  material. 

"Edward,  Bella  is  insane.  Frederic  had  the  names  of 
two  physicians  who  certified  to  that  effect.  Is  not  that 
sufficient  evidence  ?  " 

"No:  it  is  not  sufficient.  Certificates  can  be  bought, 
or  obtained  in  various  ways.  I  would  not  trust  a  phy 
sician's  certificate  unless  I  knew  how  it  was  obtained,  and 
whether  he  was  competent  to  give  it.  Nor  would  I  trust 
Frederic,  if  he  is  my  brother.  We  cannot  always  trust 
brothers.  I  shall  go  to  Boston,  God  willing,  and  shall  in 
vestigate  the  whole  case." 

With  a  sturdy  farewell,  the  young  man  left  his  sister ; 
and  with  his  heart  in  his  work,  and  his  mind  on  its  exe 
cution,  he  hastened  on.  The  wintry  winds  and  freezing  air 


OB,  THE   CEADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  189 

made  no  impression  on  him.     His  soul  was  nerved  by  a 
higher  thought  than  the  elements,  or  bodily  comfort. 

But  of  his  movements  Bella  knew  nothing.  To  her  it 
was  as  though  all  the  world  had  forgotten  her ;  as  though 
she  had  died,  and  yet  lived,  lived  to  know  that  she  was 
dead.  There  was  no  world  for  her  except  that  little  space 
within  that  locked  and  barred  enclosure.  There  were  no 
people,  or  society,  or  friends  for  her,  except  such  as  were 
within  that  hall.  Natural  life  was  losing  its  meaning. 
Her  heart  was  quivering  and  withering  ;  the  winter  of  de 
spair  was  coming.  She  was  ill  one  morning.  The  at 
tendant  said  Miss  Forresst  had  taken  cold ;  so  said  the 
matron ;  and  so  said  the  physician,  no  wiser  than  the 
others.  Her  brow  was  hot,  her  hands  and  feet  were  cold. 
She  had  pain  in  her  bones,  pains  all  over  her,  but,  most 
of  all,  pain  in  her  heart.  The  asylum  physicians  and  em-» 
ployees  saw  her  physical  condition  ;  they  said  she  was  fever 
ish  ;  but  no  one  saw  or  thought  of  her  heart,  her  affections, 
or  her  desires.  All  the  intellectual  and  soul  parts  of  peo 
ple  are  ignored  by  asylum  treatment.  The  assistant  phy 
sician  walks  through  each  morning,  and,  parrot-like,  repeats 
certain  stereotyped  questions ;  but  they  are  all  questions 
relative  to  physical  conditions,  and  of  the  plainest  parts  of 
those.  The  soul  and  spiritual  natures  are  utterly  passed 
over ;  and  "  treatment "  is  only  given  to  the  most  super 
ficial,  plainly-apparent,  physical  disturbances. 

Annie  saw  that  Bella  was  ill ;  and  she  did  for  her  just  as 
she  would  have  done  for  a  sister  at  home,  as  far  as  was  in 
her  power.  But  she  had  few  conveniences  for  taking  care 
of  the  ill :  the  hall  was  barren  of  comforts  for  the  sick, 
as  of  food  for  the  well.  Every  thing  medicinal,  even  the 
simplest  herbs,  were  locked  in  the  dispensary  ;  and  there 
was  no  way  to  procure  a  cup  of  gruel,  or  one  taste  of  some 
thing  nice,  or  one  extra  necessity,  except  to  send  down 


1'JO  BELLA  ; 

through  a  series  of  official  channels,  —  a  series  often  worked 
on  a  circumlocution  plan,  —  by  which  what  was  needed  at 
the  moment  reached  the  patient  after  hours  of  delay. 

Annie  had  no  patience  with  such  ways  of  caring  for  sick 
people.  She  looked  at  Bella  a  moment,  and  said,  "  Don't 
try  to  get  up.  You  have  taken  cold,  I  fear.  I  do  wish  I 
had  something  to  give  you,  but  there  is  absolutely  nothing. 
The  doctor  will  be  through  soon,  however." 

He  came.  Bella  heard  him  unlock  the  doors  of  the  soli 
tary,  and  give  them  the  customary  glance.  She  heard  him 
approach  her  own  door.  "  Ah ! "  said  he,  looking  in,  "  how 
is  this  ?  " 

"  Annie  thinks  I  have  taken  cold,"  was  the  reply. 

An  application  was  made  to  the  pulse.  "  Ah !  rather 
quick.  Now  your  tongue.  Yes,  —  I  see.  Nothing  seri- 
,  ous,  Miss  Forresst.  When  did  you  take  your  last  bath  ?  " 

Now,  Bella  had  heard  questionings  and  orders  and  com 
mands  about  baths  till  she  was  disgusted.  It  seemed  that 
her  keepers  thought  a  dip  into  their  baths  was  a  sovereign 
remedy.  They  used  the  bath  to  cure  religious  diseases, 
domestic  diseases,  love-diseases,  and  all  other  soul-troubles. 
She  looked  up  at  the  physician  quickly.  "Doctor,  do  you 
think  I  came  here  to  learn  to  bathe  ?  Do  not  you  suppose 
I  knew  something  of  that  sanitary  and  healthful  art  before 
I  entered  your  institution  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  but  then  there  is  nothing  better.  I  will  see 
that  you  have  a  bath  immediately." 

He  went  into  the  hall ;  and  Bella  heard  him  say  to  Annie, 
"  As  soon  as  possible  I  wish  you  to  give  Miss  Forresst  a 
bath.  Draw  the  water  as  hot  as  she  can  bear  it.  I  will 
send  up  some  salt  to  put  in  it." 

The  physician  passed  along ;  and  Annie  entered  Bella's 
room.  Bella  looked  up  at  her.  "  I  heard  it,  Annie.  If  I 
must  go  through  it,  let  me  go  by  myself." 


OR,   THE   CEADLE   OF  LIBERTY  191 

"  I  dare  not,"  said  Annie.  "  I  must  obey  the  doctor's 
orders,  however  disagreeable." 

"  But,  Annie,  do  you  think  you  can  bathe  my  heart-sick 
ness  and  my  home-sickness  out  of  me  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Forresst,  I  do  not.  If  salt-water  would  cure 
trouble,  the  sea  would  be  full  of  bathers.  I  think  there  is 
but  one  remedy  for  you  ;  and  it  is  not  here.  All  that  we 
do  injures  you  in  this  place." 

Just  then  a  heavy  step  was  heard ;  and  a  large,  middle- 
aged  woman  appeared,  bearing  a  bowl  of  rock-salt.  Her 
voice  was  coarse  and  strong ;  and  she  did  not  repress  it  as 
she  said,  "  Dorctor  sent  this  to  put  in  Miss  Forresst's  bath. 
Dorctor  said  as  how  I'd  better  stay  and  rub  her,  'cause  it 
ought  ter  be  done  moity  hard." 

Annie  cast  a  glance  at  Bella,  and  she  glanced  back.  The 
two  girls  then  understood  each  other.  "  Dorctor  "  must  be 
obeyed,  or  "  dorctor' s  "  messenger  would  go  back  and  report. 

That  was  a  fearful  bath.  The  salt  was  duly  dissolved  in 
the  hot  water,  and  the  patient  thoroughly  immersed.  Then 
the  woman  began  the  "  moity  hard  rubbing."  With  one 
hand  she  held  Bella  down,  with  the  other  she  scrubbed,  till 
the  patient  was  uncertain  whether  she  had  a  skin,  or 
whether  it  was  rolled  off  into  the  water. 

"  I  should  think  that  was  sufficient,"  Annie  said  at 
length.  "  She  can't  bear  too  much." 

"  Too  much !  Why,  Lor*  bless  ye  !  I've  been  moity 
easy,  'cause  her  skin  seems  so  tender  and  baby-like  !  You 
ought  ter  see  me  rub  some  of  the  patients,  when  I  put  in 
the  whole  strength  of  my  arms  !  Why,  I  could  fetch  either 
o'  you  to  blisters !  You  wouldn't  need  no  mustard  draughts. 
Ha,  ha,  ha  ! " 

"  Oh,  don't ! "  said  Bella,  shrinking  involuntarily. 

"  No,  I  don't  'tend  to  !  But  I  must  do  my  duty  ;  else 
what  sort  o'  a  report  could  I  make  to  dorctor  ?  " 


192  BELLA  ; 

Bella  was  silent.  She  remembered  what  she  heard  in 
the  bath-room  a  few  days  previous.  She  knew  now  whose 
voice  it  was  that  had  spoken  those  words.  What  she  heard 
was  this  :  "  Git  in  there,  I  say,  moity  quick  !  "  There  came 
from  the  patient  a  tone  of  remonstrance.  Then  the  voice 
said  again,  "  Don't  care  nothing  about  yer  bolderdash  !  Git 
in  there  !  Dorctor  says  you  are  to  take  a  bath,  and  I  reckon 
you  will !  So  git  in  !  " 

A  gurgling  sound  and  a  splash  followed.  A  strong  arm 
had  pitched  the  patient  in.  Again  there  was  a  remon 
strance,  this  time  more  earnest.  The  remonstrance  was 
followed  by  blows.  Heavy,  thick,  and  fast  the  blows  fell ; 
but  not  a  groan  was  uttered.  Bella  had  held  her  breath 
during  those  blows.  She  marvelled  who  was  in  the  bath 
room,  and  began  to  look  about  the  hall  to  see  who  was  miss 
ing.  Then  she  heard  the  voice  say,  "Wall,  you'll  stand 
more  poundin'  than  anybody  I  ever  see  in  my  life."  No 
one  replied  to  these  words ;  but  in  a  moment  more  there 
was  more  pounding ;  and  Annie,  coming  to  Bella,  said  in 
an  undertone,  "  I  do  believe  tliat  nurse  will  kill  Mrs.  Brown." 

"  Mrs.  Brown  !  "  exclaimed  Bella.  "  Is  it  possible  that 
that  poor  little  Mrs.  Brown  is  taking  all  those  blows  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  Annie's  response.  "  That  big  nurse  has  got 
her  locked  into  the  bath-room,  and  she  is  pounding  her  all 
this  time." 

"  Annie,  this  place  is  horrible  !  " 

"  It  is  indeed,"  said  Annie.  "  It  is  so  horrible  that  I 
shall  leave  it.  I  shall  give  my  notice  before  many  days." 

A  cloud  came  over  Bella's  brow.  "  There  you  have  the 
advantage  over  me,  Annie.  We  live  here  in  friendly  inter 
course  ;  but  you  are  a  free  girl.  I  am  bound.  When  the 
place  becomes  unbearable  to  you,  you  can  leave  it.  I  must 
stay,  and  still  stay  ;  and  who  knows  whether  I  shall  ever 
get  away  ?  " 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  193 

Both  Bella  and  Annie  thought  of  this  conversation  as 
they  were  now  in  the  bath-room  with  this  same  nurse  ;  and 
both  submitted  to  her  requirements  lest  there  should  now 
be  some  demonstration  of  her  strength. 

"  Thar,  I'm  done  !  "  said  the  woman  at  length.  "  The 
dorctor  he'll  be  satisfied  with  my  work,  I  think  !  I'm  a 
moity  smart  'un  on  these  patients,  I  tell  ye  !  You  can  go 
to  yer  room  now.  I've  got  to  go  to  'nother  hall." 

Whether  the  bathing  was  too  much  or  too  little,  it  proved 
not  a  cure.  Bella  was  worse  after  it ;  and  the  fever,  instead 
of  being  rubbed  out,  was  well  rubbed  in.  Young  and 
healthy  as  was  Bella,  with  scarcely  a  day's  illness  that  she 
could  remember,  she  would  not  have  broken  thus  beneath  a 
slight  cold,  if  her  affections  had  not  been  tried  beyond  her 
powers  of  resistance.  She  had  by  nature  a  fervent,  warm, 
outgushing  heart,  and  men  were  trying  to  crush  out  of  her 
that  which  her  God  had  put  within  her.  By  their  bolts 
and  bars  and  legal  statutes  they  were  depriving  her  of  her 
inherent  rights  to  "  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happi 
ness."  Her  eyes  became  full  of  delirious  anxiety,  and  her 
lips  parched  with  her  heated  breath.  She  talked  of  Morti 
mer,  murmured  of  going,  going,  and  called  "  Mother," 
"  Mother,"  "  Dear  mother  !  "  in  her  fevered  sleep. 

Meantime  the  cold  deepened.  The  ice-king  was  hasten 
ing  apace.  Boston,  full  of  hope  and  energy,  had  fires  glow 
ing  in  its  furnaces  and  grates.  Women  wore  their  furs, 
and  men  walked  in  overcoats,  stepping  briskly  in  the  clear, 
cold  wind.  Boston  looked  solid  without,  and  felt  solid 
within,  as  it  smiled  in  its  carpeted  rooms,  and  read  in  its 
newspapers  notices  of  current  events.  Amusements,  con 
certs,  and  lecturers  were  flourishing,  and  charity  was  not 
forgotten. 

In  a  large  easy-chair,  in  a  richly-furnished  chamber  of  a 
luxurious  house,  with  her  feet  on  a  hassock,  and  her  head 
17 


194  BELLA ; 

resting  quietly  back,  reclined  an  old  lady.  Her  hands  were 
folded  in  her  lap,  and  her  silver-streaked  hair  was  smoothly 
parted  over  her  high,  clear  forehead.  She  was  a  proud- 
looking  woman,  and  yet  her  eyes  were  love-lit,  and  her  face 
serene.  Two  cherubs  were  playing  near.  One  looked  up 
at  the  old  lady,  and  said,  "  Hus,  teep  still !  dramma 
sleep ! " 

The  other  looked  up,  and  said,  "No:  dramma  make 
b'leve  sleep.  I  see  dramma  peep." 

The  old  lady  smiled ;  and  at  that  moment  the  door-bell 
rang. 

"  Who  tome  ?  "  exclaimed  the  cherubs  ;  and  away  they 
bounded  into  the  hall.  The  next  moment  they  were  hang 
ing  to  the  balustrade,  and  looking  cautiously  down  to  see 
who  should  appear.  A  servant  opened  the  outer  door,  and 
the  voice  of  a  man  was  heard.  Then  there  were  steps  in 
at  the  door ;  the  servant  made  some  slight  remark,  and  the 
man  replied,  "  Don't  trouble  yourself.  I  will  leave  my  coat 
here,  and  run  right  up  to  her  chamber." 

At  that  voice  the  old  lady  started,  her  hands  unclasped, 
her  eyes  flew  open,  and  she  stood  upright.  She  was  old  no 
longer.  Her  eyes  grew  bright,  and  her  step  was  elastic  as 
she  went  lightly  through  the  door.  She  reached  the  head 
•of  the  stairs.  A  man  was  bounding  up.  Two  steps  at  a 
t-ime  he  came,  his  broad  shoulders,  broad  face,  and  brown 
whiskers  seeming  as  wings  to  uplift  him.  He  spread  his 
arms;  the  old  lady  fell  into  them;  and  while  he  cried, 
"  My  mother !  "  she  cried,  "  My  son  !  0  Edward  !  my  son, 
my  son ! " 

Then  Mrs.  Boynton  came,  and  gave  her  brother  a  cordial 
welcome.  She  was  not  a  heartless  woman,  except  when 
fashion  ruled  her  with  its  dogmatical  decrees;  and  fashion 
did  not  ostracize  a  man  like  Edward  Forresst,  even  though 
he  had  made  his  home  in  a  wilderness.  He  was  a  grace 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  195 

to  the  wilderness.  Its  freshness  gave  him  health ;  its 
rusticity  seemed  not  to  touch  him.  Nothing  in  his  dress 
or  manners  offended  Mrs.  Boynton's  cultivated  taste,  and 
he  was  in  no  way  out  of  keeping  now  as  he  passed  through 
her  elegant  hall  to  his  mother's  room.  She  wished  that 
Harry  was  like  him ;  but  bluff  Harry  would  never  con 
form  to  conventionalities.  He  would  not  live  in  a  city. 
He  loved  the  open  country,  the  wild,  free  woods,  and  life 
in  simplicity  as  he  found  it  there.  Nature  had  endowed 
him  with  every  attribute  of  manliness,  and  he  had  not 
sullied  one  of  Nature's  gifts.  In  integrity  and  sturdy 
strength  of  character,  he  was  "  every  inch  a  man,"  and 
bowed  to  no  bondage,  not  even  to  the  forms  of  society. 
To  Mrs.  Boynton  he  was  a  constant  trouble.  His  boots 
were  too  thick,  the  cloth  he  wore  was  too  heavy,  and  he 
sat  awkwardly  in  her  elegant  chairs.  Reproofs  for  his 
misdemeanors  he  received  with  a  laugh,  but  did  not  re 
form;  and  Mrs.  Boynton  was  forced  to  consider  him  her 
incorrigible  brother. 

In  the  evening,  after  Edward's  arrival,  three  brothers 
sat  in  Mrs.  Boynton's  private  parlor.  One  was  thoroughly 
attired,  with  his  waxed  mustache  pointed  artistically; 
the  second  was  square-shouldered  and  firm,  free  in  action 
as  the  breezes  of  the  woods  ;  the  third  was  graceful,  but 
ruddy-brown  with  the  Western  winds.  Opposite  the  three 
sat  Mrs.  Forresst  and  the  fashionable  Mrs.  Boynton. 

In  his  own  resonant  tones  Edward  remarked,  "I  was 
never  so  surprised  as  when  I  read  that  letter.  You  know, 
Frederic,  that  Bella  is  not  insane.  You  have  played 
false." 

"  I  know  that  she  was  committing  a  very  insane  act. 
Upon  my  honor !  I  thought  it  best  to  arrest  her  before 
she  should  throw  herself  away,  and  squander  our  father's 
patrimony." 


196  BELLA  ; 

"  The  money  that  father  left  her  wi»s  as  much  hers  as 
yours  that  he  left  you,  or  mine  that  he  left  me! "said 
Edward. 

"Let  her  keep  it,  then,"  Mr.  Frederic  replied.  "It 
cannot  be  used  to  enrich  Chauncey  Beale's  son." 

"  You  prefer  that  it  should  enrich  an  insane  hospital." 

"  Until  she  is  restored  to  her  senses,  I  do." 

Mrs.  Forresst  sighed  as  she  looked  upon  her  children 
"  Alas  ! "  she  said,  "  that  I  should  live  to  this  day,  when 
one  of  my  children  unlawfully  holds  another  in  prison  !  " 

"  Your  pardon,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Frederic  bowing  to  his 
mother,  "  it  is  not  unlawful." 

"  In  the  sight  of  God  it  is  unlawful.  Men's  laws  aro 
frail  constructions." 

"  Again  I  ask  your  pardon,  madam.  We  may  differ  as 
to  our  views  of  God.  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  save  Bella  from 
throwing  herself  away." 

"  Which  you  are  doing  by  holding  her  in  a  confinement 
that  is  worse  than  throwing  her  away." 

A  tear  glimmered  in  the  eye  of  old  Mrs.  Forresst.  She 
did  not  attempt  to  wipe  it  away,  and  Frederic  responded, 
"  I  regret,  mother,  that  you  should  feel  this  so  deeply,  since 
it  is  a  necessity." 

"  Enough  of  that,"  interposed  Harry.  "  Bella  is  coming 
out  of  there  !  You  say  you  are  going  to  see  her  to-morrow, 
Edward  ?  " 

« I  shall." 

"  Fetch  her  out  with  you ;  that's  all." 

"  You  forget,  perhaps,  that  I  am  her  legal  guardian," 
said  Mr.  Frederic. 

"  I  do  not  forget  that  you  have  procured  for  yourself 
that  honor.  We  will  see  about  the  guardianship  after 
ward." 

The  mustache  twitched,  and  then  settled  firmly. 
Frederic  replied  again,  — 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  197 

"Perhaps  you  are  not  aware,  that,  as  she  was  consigned 
uader  the  forms  of  law,  she  can  only  be  taken  away  legally. 
The  institution  has  no  right  to  surrender  her  to  every 
passing  caller." 

"  I  shall  take  her  hy  the  rights  of  a  brother,"  said 
Edward  in  a  clear,  ringing  voice.- 

Mrs.  Boynton  arose,  and  the  rustle  of  her  dress  seemed 
as  a  quieting  breeze.  "  That  will  do,"  she  said  softly. 
"  You  are  worrying  mother  too  much." 

Edward  cast  a  glance  at  the  old  lady,  and  said,  "  For 
give,  me,  mother.  I  will  say  no  more,  but  I  will  do  my 
duty." 

They  talked  of  other  subjects  then,  but  did  not  forget ; 
and,  when  they  parted  before  retiring,  Harry  quietly 
grasped  Edward's  hand,  "  Go  ahead,  I  am  with  you." 

That  was  all  he  said,  but  Edward  felt  strengthened  by 
the  words.  Frederic  walked  home,  apparently  alone.  No 
one  said,  "  I  am  with  you."  And  yet  Frederic  was  not 
alone.  He  had  an  ally  more  powerful  than  a  brother. 
That  ally  was  the  locked  institution  founded  by  the  laws 
of  his  own  native  State,  and  claiming  these  laws  as  a 
shield  in  all  its  usurpations.  On  the  breast  of  the  old 
Commonwealth  lies  the  cradle  in  which  our  liberties  have 
been  rocked.  Now  that  liberty  has  grown,  shall  we  build 
prisons  in  her  eyries,  and  permit  brother  to  hold  brother  in 
bondage  ?  Let  the  States  of  our  Union  ask  this  question, 
for  the  Commonwealth  is  not  alone  in  its  mistake. 

The  following  morning,  clear  and  cold,  saw  Edward 
Forresst  on  his  way  to  the  asylum  where  his  sister  was 
held.  He  remembered  that  sister  as  she  used  to  be,  a 
frolicsome  girl  making  his  youth  merry ;  and  his  heart 
warmed  with  his  boyish  love  as  the  train  hurried  him  to 
the  town  where  the  asylum  was  located.  He  took  no  car 
riage  when  he  left  the  cars ;  but,  with  strong  steps,  ha 
17* 


198  BELLA ; 

clanked  his  boot-heels  over  the  frozen  ground.  The  air 
was  cold,  but  what  of  that  ?  The  great  building  was  in 
view,  and  Bella  was  in  it.  He  drew  near  it,  entered  its 
yard,  and,  hurrying  in  at  the  main  door,  inquired  for  Miss 
Bella  Forresst. 

Asylum  officials  become  very  expert  in  reading  the  coun 
tenances  of  visitors  to  patients.  They  saw  at  once  that 
Miss  Forresst's  visitor  was  a  man  whom  they  could  not 
easily  delude,  and  with  whom  they  dared  not  trifle.  There 
was  no  use  in  telling  him  that  "  it  would  be  better  for  the 
patient  not  to  see  her  friends,"  nor  to  tell  him  any  thing 
but  the  bare  truth.  He  was  honest  in  his  love  for  his 
sister,  and  they  saw  it.  He  was  too  discerning  to  be  duped, 
and  they  saw  that  also.  Therefore,  not  having  any  sub 
terfuge  concocted  for  the  emergency,  they  told  him  frankly 
that  Bella  was  ill,  and  took  him  up  to  see  her.  He  followed 
an  official  up  the  winding  stairs,  stopped  while  she  un 
locked  and  re-locked  the  doors,  and  filled  with  indignation 
as  he  saw  the  close  prison  in  which  his  own  beloved  sister 
was  held.  He  passed  the  rows  of  cells,  passed  the  sad, 
dispirited  women,  and  his  free  nature  recoiled.  The  broad, 
breezy  West  had  scarcely  fitted  him  for  this  cloister  of 
men's  devising.  It  seemed  utterly  unnatural,  and  had  a 
dismal  look  of  darkness  in  his  eyes. 

As  he  passed  from  corridor  to  corridor,  the  eyes  of  the 
women  followed  him.  There  was  a  free  and  easy  briskness 
in  his  step,  a  self-possession  in  his  manner,  and  a  genial 
heartiness  on  his  countenance,  that  instinct. vely  attracted 
the  attention  of  all.  "  Who  is  he  ?  " —  "  Who  has  he  come 
to  see  ?  "  These  were  the  questions  that  passed  from  lip  to 
lip. 

We  will  not  describe  the  meeting  between  this  brother 
and  sister :  why  use  awkward  words  to  tell  that  which  can 
be  felt,  but  not  described.  Nor  can  we  repeat  much  of  their 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY. 

conversation  during  the  interview,  nor  depict  with  vivid 
ness  the  sensations  of  the  brother  as  he  sat  by  her  bed,  with 
her  soft  hand  lying  in  his,  and  her  pale  face  before  him. 
He  was  not  only  pained,  but  shocked,  and  roused  to  stern 
denunciations. 

"  Is  it  possible ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  had  no  idea  that  we 
tolerate  laws  under  which  such  reckless  perfidy  can  find 
shelter !  We '  have  just  had  a  war  to  liberate  our  colored 
bond-people  —  what  shall  we  do  for  our  white  sufferers  ?  " 
The  eyes  of  the  soldier  dilated  with  the  intensity  of  his 
emotions,  and  he  felt  that  his  country  was  still  not  thor 
oughly  free. 

"  I  meant  to  take  you  to  Boston  with  me  to-day,"  he 
remarked  at  length.  "  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you  ill." 

"  Only  to  Boston  ?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Only  there  to-day ;  but  when  I  go  back,  I  hope  la  belle 
Bella  will  go." 

"  I  shall  be  well  in  a  few  days." 

'"I  hope  so,  Bella;  for  I  cannot  go  back  home  without 
you:  I  promised  Mortimer  you  should  go.  You  do  not 
know  how  much  he  thinks  of  you." 

"  I  know  how  much  I  think  of  him.  Not  all  the  arts  of 
this  place  can  drive  him  from  my  mind." 

Then  Edward  described  his  Western  home,  and  depicted 
its  future.  He  told  her  of  Elijah  and  Emily  and  Jack, 
and  how  Mortimer  felt  meanly  at  not  coming  on  himself; 
"  but,"  continued  the  young  man,  "  I  told  him  it  was  better 
that  I  should  come ;  for  I  understand  Frederic,  and  I  shall 
not  go  back  without  you.  Do  not  fear." 

When  Edward  left,  he  told  the  attendant  and  asylum 
officers  that  Bella  would  leave  in  a  few  days,  or  as  soon 
as  she  was  able,  and  it  was  a  subject  of  rejoicing  among 
the  patients.  Nothing  creates  such  thrills  of  joy  in 
these  halls  as  to  know  that  one  of  their  number  is  to  be 


200  BELLA  ; 

released.  She  who  is  soon  to  go  is  looked  upon  as  sacred. 
The  halo  of  freedom  seems  about  her,  and  an  invisible 
light  irradiates  her.  The  more  the  patients  love  her,  the 
more  do  they  rejoice  in  the  good  fortune  that  has  come  to 
her.  Though  they  know  they  shall  never  see  her  again, 
yet  they  are  glad  she  is  going;  for  is  it  not  freedom  to 
which  she  is  hastening? 

A  slaveholder,  in  the  presence  of  Isaac  T.  Hopper  and 
another  Friend,  remarked  that  his  slaves  were  happy. 
"  Friend,"  said  the  Quaker,  "  give  thee  a  palace,  enclose  it 
in  a  ten-acre  lot,  plant  it  all  round  with  Lombardy  poplars, 
and  ornament  it  with  beauty,  and  give  thee  thy  pen  and  ink, 
and  thy  books  that  thou  lovest  so  well,  and  shut  thee  up 
within  it,  and  thou.  wouldst  look  over  the  wall  with  longing 
eyes." 

And  just  such  longing  as  this  our  physicians  prescribe 
for  restoring  injured  minds  1 


OB,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  201 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

'DWAED  EOEEESST  returned  to  Boston  with  a 
keen  sense  of  Bella's  situation.  "  It  is  enough  to 
drive  her  crazy  to  stay  there,"  he  said  to  his  moth- 
er,  "  and  it  has  made  her  ill,  else  I  should  have 
brought  her  back  with  me  to-day." 

"  I  feared  it,"  the  mother  replied.  "  I  told  Erederic,  if 
he  was  not  careful,  he  would  make  the  child  insane." 

"  I  believe  she  would  be  after  a  time,"  Edward  returned ; 
"  but  she  is  only  feverish  now.  She  brightened  wonderful 
ly  when  I  told  her  I  had  come  for  her;  that  I  should  take 
her  out  fn  season  to  prepare  herself  to  be  present  at  my 
wedding ;  and  that  then  she  should  go  on  with  me,  and 
there  would  be  another  wedding.  When  I  came  away,  she 
seemed  like  a  new  person ;  and  we'll  have  her  out  of  there  in 
a  few  days." 

Edward  told  Harry  his  plans ;  and  Harry  said,  "  Go 
ahead.  Get  her  out,  and  I  am  with  you." 

But  Erederic  sniffed  the  air  like  a  wild  Arab  steed.  His 
curling  lip  went  upward,  and  his  eyes  flashed  defiance.  In 
business  circles  he  was  "known  as  a  man  of  uncompromising 
energy,  invincible  will  in  conquering  difficulties,  and  stern 
in  the  hour  of  danger.  He  never  turned  his  back  to  ob 
stacles  ;  and  all  the  qualities  that  carried  him  over  the 
waves  of  business  bore  him  on  in  this  matter  now.  He 
went  to  the  house  of  Mrs.  Boynton. 

"  Eunice,"  said  he,  "what  is  that  boy  doing?     Does  he 


202  BELLA  ; 

expect  that  he  is  going  to  take  that  girl  from  where  I  have 
put  her  for  safe  keeping,  and  carry  her  to  the  wilds  with 
him  ?  I  am  the  eldest  of  my  father's  family,  and  who  will 
direct  these  children  if  I  do  not?  " 

"  We  can  scarcely  call  Edward  and  Bella  children,"  Mrs. 
Boynton  replied. 

"  Upon  .my  honor,  Eunice,  they  act  like  children,  or  like 
simple  young  people,  trying  to  make  romance  out  of  a  very 
practical  part  of  their  lives.  I  want  you  to  use  a  little 
common  sense,  Eunice.  I  want  you  to  go  and  ascertain, 
and  hring  back  word  to  me,  that  I  may  know  what  Edward 
did  and  said  there,  and  whether  those  people  suppose  they 
are  to  let  her  go  out  of  there  without  her  guardian's  con 
sent.  Edward  is  not  her  legal  guardian  :  I  am." 

Even  when  Eunice  and  Frederic  were  children,  there 
were  times  when  she  yielded  an  involuntary  submission  to 
his  will.  Such  a  time  had  corne  to  her  now,  and  Frederic 
knew  that  he  had  this  power  over  her.  He  knew  that  she 
would  not  question  this  mandate,  issued  in  his  most 
princely  way.  He  went  out  of  the  house  confident  that 
she  would  be  his  faithful  agent. 

In  early  winter,  when  late  autumn  is  struggling  for  a 
breath  more  of  warmth,  there  are  days  that  partake  of 
autumn's  mellowness  blended  with  winter's  elastic  clear 
ness.  On  such  days  ladies  appear  out  in  costumes  befit 
ting  the  weather,  and  the  bright  sun  welcomes  them  in 
brief,  coquettish  smiles.  On  such  a  day  a  lady  ascended 
the  asylum  steps.  A  bonnet  of  velvet  and  a  feathery 
spray  lay  on  the  top  of  her  stylishly-dressed  hair,  a  double- 
frilled  travelling  skirt  floated  coquettishly  above  her  boots, 
and  from  her  gloved  hand  there  hung  a  reticule  of  costly 
elegance.  The  front  asylum  doors  swung  wide  on  their 
hinges,  and  the  porter  bowed  blandly  as  she  passed  in. 
The  style  and  richness  of  her  apparel,  her  innate  self- 


OK,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  203 

possession,  and  her  quiet  assumption  of  superiority,  were 
sure  passports  to  attention.  The  lowest  of  bows,  and  most 
flattering  words,  were  showered  upon  her  in  the  office. 
With  a  grace  that  was  all  her  own,  she  inquired  for  her 
sister,  Miss  Bella  Forresst ;  and  with  a  grace  that  was  all 
their  own,  they  replied  to  her  inquiries,  and  conducted  her 
through  the  halls  to  Bella's  room.  She  glanced  not  around 
as  she  went,  but  passed  through  with  that  peculiar  air  that 
seems  not  to  see  what  all  know  must  be  seen,  or  it  could 
not  be  thus  avoided.  Such  cognizance  is  an  indefinable, 
acquired  art. 

Bella  had  been  very  happy  that  morning.  Since  the 
visit  of  Edward,  she  had  recuperated  wonderfully ;  for  she 
had  been  drinking  the  elixir  of  hope.  Blessed  hope ! 
Sweet  cordial  of  the  soul,  pure  nectar  of  life!  Thou  art 
more  than  medicine,  thou  art  life. 

On  the  strength  of  hope  Bella  had  arisen,  and  light  was 
once  more  coming  back  to  her  eyes.  "  In  a  few  days  I  shall 
go  home ;  yes,  in  a  few  days  I  shall  go  home."  These 
were  the  talisrtlanic  words  that  were  flitting  through  her 
mind  as  a  shadow  darkened  her  door,  and  a  voice  spoke. 

"  Miss  Forresst  —  a  lady  to  see  you  ! 

Bella  looked  up.  "  Eunice  —  why  Eunice  —  is  it  indeed 
you  ?  I  am  so  glad." 

The  patients  who  heard  it  said,  "  It  is  Miss  Forresst's 
sister,  come  to  take  her  away."  They  had  no  thought  that 
the  beautiful  lady  was  an  agent,  a  spy. 

Mrs.  Boynton  laid  her  bonnet  on  the  narrow  bed,  —  a  bed 
she  would  not  have  given  to  a  servant  in  her  house ;  and 
then  she  sat  down  on  the  other  bed,  —  sat  down  as  coolly  as 
if  it  had  been  a  sofa  standing  there.  No  remark,  no  cen 
sure  of  the  place,  nor  apology  for  permitting  Bella  to  stay 
in  it,  escaped  her.  She  opened  her  reticule  ;  and,  after  the 
fashion  of  people  who  visit  friends  in  these  places,  she  took 


204  BELLA ; 

out  the  bonbons,  fruit,  and  delicacies  she  had  brought,  as 
though  people  could  be  kept  imprisoned  at  starvation's 
point  for  weeks  and  months,  and  then  be  made  happy  by  a 
few  sweetmeats  ! 

Bella  looked  on  with  surprise.  "  What  do  I  want  with 
those,  Eunice  ?  Am  not  I  going  home  ?  " 

"Not  to-day,  Bella;  not  till  you  are  well.  I  came  to  see 
how  you  are.  You  are  ill,  they  tell  me." 

"  I  am  well  enough  to  go  home  with  you,  Eunice.  This 
place  makes  me  ill.  Let  me  be  out,  and  I  shall  be  well.  I 
need  to  go  out." 

"  Then,  why  not  go  out  here  ?  There  are  attendants  to 
walk  with  you  I  suppose." 

Bella  looked  up  earnestly.  "  Eunice,  I  do  not  want  to  go 
out  here  !  I  want  my  freedom  !  Why  am  I  held  as  a  prison 
er  ?  Why  was  I  taken  from  home  as  a  felon  ?  By  what 
right  does  Frederic  hold  me  in  this  bondage  ?  " 

"  Don't  get  excited,  Bella.     Keep  calm." 

"  Put  yourself  in  my  position,  and  see  if  you  could  keep 
calm,"  said  the  prisoner.  "  Just  try  it !  That  is  all  I 
ask." 

"  I  know  your  position  is  very  trying,"  Mrs.  Boynton 
replied ;  "  but  you  brought  it  upon  yourself  by  your  persist 
ency  in  your  absurd  course." 

"  Eunice,"  said  Bella,  "  when  you  wanted  to  marry  Mr. 
Boynton,  was  it  absurd  ?  " 

With  a  stifled  scream  the  lady  lifted  her  two  hands. 
"  Don't,  Bella !  do  not  compare  Mr.  Boynton  with  the  man 
you  have  chosen  !  It  is  absolutely  shocking !  I  could 
never,  never  have  descended  to  such  a  choice  !  " 

Then  it  was  that  Bella  stood  up  straight  in  her  prison 
cell,  in  the  narrow  passage  between  the  two  beds.  Into 
her  eyes  came  the  fire  of  determination ;  into  her  face  shot 
the  proud  old  spirit  of  ancestral  inheritance;  her  head 


OB,  THE  CKADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  206 

placed  itself  erect  on  her  firm,  white  neck,  and  her  long 
ringlets  floated  back  of  her  round  shoulders  as  she  answer 
ed,  "  Eunice,  if  you  have  come  here  to  force  me  or  to 
frighten  me  till  I  yield  to  Frederic,  know  this :  You  have 
come  on  the  most  fruitless  errand  you  ever  undertook.  I 
have  been  driven  hither  and  hither ;  I  have  been  scolded, 
and  commanded,  and  my  youth  has  been  a  broken  pathway  ; 
but  my  heart  is  still  true  as  a  needle  to  the  pole,  and  you 
can  never  turn  it  by  any  such  means  as  you  use.  You  are 
too  late  now  in  trying  to  change  my  mind.  I  have  suffered 
for  Mortimer ;  and,  if  I  cannot  marry  him  on  earth,  I  will 
wait  and  marry  him  —  in  heaven." 

There  was  a  sublimity  in  every  lineament  of  the  patient's 
face.  Her  two  hands  were  folded  on  her  breast,  her  brow 
was  calm,  her  lips  firm,  and  her  pulse  beat  with  full,  strong, 
and  clear  vibrations. 

For  several  moments  Mrs.  Boynton  did  not  speak.  When 
she  did,  it  was  on  some  trifling  subject  of  dress.  She  ap 
peared  not  to  have  heard  the  words  of  her  young  sister,  or, 
if  she  did  hear,  to  regard  them  as  a  summer  tale,  to  be  for 
gotten  as  the  changing  breeze. 

But  the  banker's  wife  did  not  forget.  When  she  was 
passing  out  of  the  asylum,  she  paused  at  the  office,  that 
official 'room  where  the  destinies  of  human  beings  are  de 
cided  as  coolly  as  though  no  soul  or  immortality  was  attached 
to  our  existence,  and  men  had  a  right  to  dispose  of  each 
other  as  their  finite  fancies  and  judgments  see  fit. 

Mrs.  Boynton  here  expressed  her  regrets  that  her  sister 
was  no  better,  suggested  that  her  correspondence  be  care 
fully  guarded,  as  her  brother  was  extremely  anxious  that 
she  be  protected  against  the  influence  of  certain  obnoxious 
persons,  and  so  on.  Mrs.  Boynton  knew  exactly  how  to 
express  her  meaning,  without  saying  too  much  ;  and,  when 
she  was  gone,  the  asylum  officials  vied  in  her  praise. 

18 


206  BELLA  ; 

"So  elegant  in  manners,"  "So  exquisite  in  costume," 
"  So  delicate  in  expression,"  "  So  careful  not  to  say  that  it 
was  a  lover  from  whom  they  were  shielding  Miss  Bella." 
Mrs.  Boynton  might  have  blushed  at  her  praises  had  she 
been  a  listener;  but  then,  people  who  listen  are  seldom 
the  ones  who  hear  good  of  themselves.  It  was  best  that 
Mrs.  Boynton  could  not  listen,  even  to  her  own  praises. 

She  went  home  with  her  report.  "  Frederic,  you  will 
never  overcome  her  obstinacy.  You  may  as  well  let  her  go 
with  Edward." 

"  Upon  my  honor,  Eunice  !  You  have  the  weakness  of  a 
woman  !  Let  her  marry  Beale  —  indeed !  " 

"  I  formed  my  opinion  from  her  own  words.  She  told 
me  directly,  that,  if  she  could  not  marry  him  on  earth,  she 
would  marry  him  in  heaven." 

"  Heaven !  ha !  Well,  we  are  not  there  yet.  At 
present  we  are  dealing  with  earth." 

Mr.  Frederic  bowed  himself  out  from  his  sister's  house, 
and  walked  home.  The  evening  lights  shed  their  rays  upon 
him ;  and  he  soliloquized.  "  In  heaven !  I  do  not  under 
stand  those  ethereal  marriages.  Ha,  ha  !  It  is  quite  pro 
phetic  love  —  this  of  theirs." 

In  the  asylum  Bella  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow.  The 
thorn  of  bitterness  had  come  back  to  pierce  her.  The  hope 
that  Edward  gave,  Eunice  had  taken  away.  Annie  came 
to  her  softly,  and  tried  to  comfort  her;  but  her  sorrow  lay 
too  deep  for  her  to  soothe. 

"  Annie,"  said  the  supervisor,  "  put  Miss  Forresst  at 
tvork." 

"  I  do  not  think  she  is  able  :  I  should  not  like  to  ask 
her,"  was  Annie's  gentle  response. 

"  La !  you  need  not  feel  delicate  about  her !  Some 
thing  has  got  to  be  done  to  keep  her  in  order.  Her  folks 
don't  want  her  at  home,  that  is  plain.  Her  sister  did  not 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  207 

say  so,  but  she  might  as  well.  We  could  all  see  what  she 
meant ;  and  she  is  a  splendid  lady !  I  think  it  is  a  shame 
for  Bella  to  give  her  so  much  trouble." 

"  But  what  shall  I  have  her  do  ?  There  are  more 
women  in  the  dining-room  than  I  need  now." 

"  Put  her  into  the  hall,  or  send  her  into  the  sewing-room, 
or  let  her  work  for  yourself.  Any  thing  to  keep  her  busy." 

Annie  considered ;  and  recollecting  the  embroidery  she 
had  seen  among  Bella's  clothes,  and  knowing  that  patients 
who  could  do  any  fine  or  fancy  work  were  always  taxed 
by  the  attendants,  she  went  into  Bella's  room,  in  her  own 
soft,  loving  way,  and  said,  "Miss  Forresst,  didn't  you  tell 
me  that  your  embroidery  was  your  own  work  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  always  do  my  own.     I  learned  in  the  convent." 

"  Will  you  do  some  for  me,  if  I  will  get  the  materials  ? 
I  should  like  some  as  a  token  of  remembrance." 

Bella  hesitated.  "  I  may  not  have  time  to  do  much, 
Annie ;  for,  notwithstanding  my  sister,  I  believe  in  Edward. 
I  know  he  will  come  for  me." 

"  If  he  comes,  you  can  leave  the  work,  and  go  ;  and  I  will 
follow  you  with  my  love,  and  keep  the  stitches  you  have 
taken  as  a  token  of  the  happiness  I  have  had  with  you,  for 
you  have  been  a  comfort  to  me,  Miss  Forresst.  This  life  is 
weariness  for  me,  as  for  you.  I  cannot  shut  my  sympathies 
away  from  my  patients,  as  most  attendants  do." 

And  Bella  kissed  Annie,  and  said,  "  I  will  work  for  you." 

Whoever  passed  Bella's  door,  in  the  days  that  followed, 
might  have  seen  her  bending  over  the  fine  embroidery,  her 
skilled  needle  going  through  the  cambric  in  patient  stitches. 
It  brought  back  remembrances  of  Natinitie,  and  Matildie, 
and  Lola  who  fled  with  him  of  the  glorious  eyes.  Where 
was  Lola  now  ?  And  then  her  thoughts  would  roam  away 
from  that  to  the  home  where  Elijah  and  Emily  waited,  and 
Mortimer  was  preparing  for  her. 


208  BELLA  ; 

One  of  the  women  who  had  seen  much  experience  in  these 
halls  watched  her  opportunity,  and  stealthily  followed 
Bella  into  the  bath-room.  Closing  the  door  by  shutting  a 
paper  within  the  marginal  space,  she  said  earnestly  and 
emphatically,  "  Don't  you  do  it !  Don't  you  work  for  one 
of  them.  You  may  work,  and  work,  and  work,  till  you  are 
tired  and  sick;  and  you  will  get  no  privileges,  nor  even 
thanks  in  return.  These  girls  are  hired  here.  They  are 
paid  by  the  institution.  They  stay  until  they  replenish  their 
pockets,  get  all  they  can  out  of  the  patients,  and.  then 
go  again.  They  do  not  care  what  becomes  of  us  who  are 
left  behind  ;  and  when  the  patients  become  worn  out,  and 
can  no  longer  work,  then  they  are  crowded  back,  jostled  out 
of  the  way,  told  they  are  crazy  old  things,  and  trampled  on 
as  though  they  had  no  feelings.  I  know  a  woman  who  has 
earned  more  than  two  thousand  dollars  for  this  institution ; 
and,  if  she  was  justly  compensated,  she  would  receive  that 
amount ;  and  yet  she  cannot  get  even  one  small  favor.  The 
other  day  she  asked  the  supervisor  to  let  her  go  into  the 
uext  hall  to  see  a  woman  there  whom  she  knows ;  and  the 
supervisor  said  sharply,  '  No !  do  you  think  we  are  going  to 
let  patients  run  around  from  hall  to  hall  ? ' 

" '  After  all  the  work  I  have  done,'  said  the  woman 
humbly,  'surely  I  ought  to  have  some  little  privilege.' 

"  '  After  all  you  have  done  ! '  the  supervisor  returned  con 
temptuously.  '  You  ought  to  be  thankful  that  we  gave  you 
the  honor  of  doing  it.'  The  supervisor  walked  grandly  off; 
the  poor  woman  went  towards  her  solitary  room.  I  saw 
tears  in  her  eyes.  Do  not  work  for  them,  Miss  For- 
resst?" 

"I  shall  not  work  long,"  Bella  replied;  "but  I  like 
Annie,  and  will  do  this  as  a  token.  I  expect  my  brother 
every  day." 

"You  may  be  disappointed  in  that,"  the  elder  woman 


OB,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  209 

responded.  "  I  have  known  a  great  many  to  be  told  they 
were  going  soon ;  and  then  they  were  kept  years,  till  hope 
died,  and  death  came  to  close  the  scene." 

"  I  know  it  is  so,"  Bella  returned ;  "  but  I  have  a  brother 
whom  I  can  trust." 

That  afternoon  Bella  sat  at  her  window  with  the  em 
broidery  in  her  hand.  She  was  watching  the  declining  sun 
through  her  bars,  and  thinking  how  it  was  going  to  see 
that  far-away  cabin  where  she  was  soon  going ;  and  how 
she  should  love  to  watch  it  there  ;  and  the  embroidery  fell 
from  her  fingers.  She  leaned  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and 
her  elbow  on  the  window-sill.  Thought  sank  into  reverie, 
and  reverie  was  followed  by  sadness.  Click.  She  heard  it. 
The  sound  had  become  monotony  and  weariness.  She  knew 
the  hall  door  opened,  but  what  of  that  ?  The  servants  and 
officials  were  always  going  in  and  out.  She  sat  unmoved, 
and  steps  drew  near.  The  steps  of  a  man  they  were,  heavy 
and  firm.  She  started  then.  Perhaps  it  was  Edward.  He 
had  just  such  firm  steps.  She  dropped  the  embroidery  :  she 
stood  upright,  and  counted  the  footsteps  as  they  drew  near. 
The  man  did  not  speak ;  but  the  steps  were  surely  Ed 
ward's.  A  tremor  thrilled  her.  Her  lips  parted  in  expect 
ancy.  A  shadow  came  in  at  the  door,  then  an  employee,  and 
the  steps  ceased.  The  employee  said,  "  This  is  Miss  For- 
resst."  Then  the  employee  turned  away  5  and  a  living  form 
of  solid  strength  stepped  into  the  doorway,  arid  paused. 
One  glance  the  patient  gave,  then  with  a  cry  she  sprang 
forward,  and  fell  upon  the  broad  chest  of — Harry  Forresst. 
He  put  his  strong  arms  about  her,  and  said  in  a  voice  of 
woman's  tenderness,  "  Bella,  —  my  little  sister  Bella,  —  is 
this  you?" 

"  Harry,"  she  answered,  "  my  own  old  Harry,  is  this  you  ?  " 

"It  is  just  nobody  else,  you  may  be  sure  of  that/'  wag 
his  reply. 

18* 


210  BELLA : 

"  I  thought  it  was  Edward." 

"  But  you  are  glad  to  see  me,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Glad !  Why,  Harry !  I  was  never  so  glad  of  any 
thing  in  my  life." 

She  gave  him  her  chair,  and  he  sat  down.  She  also  took 
a  seat,  but  it  was  in  his  broad  lap ;  and  her  hands  went 
twining  about  his  neck,  and  she  kissed  his  bushy  brown 
beard. 

"  Why,  little  one,'*  he  said,  in  his  off-hand  way,  "  you  are 
hungry  for  kisses.  Haven't  had  many  lately,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  had  any  thing  that  I  want.  You  have  come 
after  me,  I  hope." 

"  Why  —  not  exactly  —  little  one  ;  though,  confound  it ! 
if  I  had  known,"  here  he  glanced  around,  "  that  you  was  in 
such  a  cow-pen  of  a  place,  I  shouldn't  have  let  Fred  off 
quite  so  easy." 

"  0  Harry  !  you  won't  join  Fred  against  me,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  Bella,  you  may  be  sure  of  that.  Once  I  might 
have  thought  you  could  do  better  than  to  take  Mortimer ; 
but  the  way  Fred  is  treating  you  is  enough  to  drive  you 
mad,  and  I  have  had  hard  work  to  restrain  my  temper  with 
him.  He  has  intrenched  himself  under  the  forms  of  the 
law  ;  and,  in  order  to  oust  him,  I  must  examine  the  statutes. 
He  has  legal  power  on  his  side,  while  we  have  only  our 
sense  of  right." 

"  That  ought  to  be  more  powerful  than  law,"  said  Bella, 
"or,  at  least,  that  and  law  ought  to  agree." 

"  Ought  and  are  are  two  things,  little  one.  The  men 
who  make  laws  study  all  their  lives,  and  work  so  hard  get 
ting  the  laws  straight,  that  it  puzzles  even  a  lawyer  to  wade 
through  the  crooks  of  the  statutes.  Now,  I  find  by  investi 
gation,  that  the  laws  relative  to  these  asylums,  imperfect  as 
they  are,  are  yet  more  imperfectly  executed.  In  fact,  they 
are  evaded,  twisted,  and  made  void,  by  relatives,  doctors, 


OR,   THE  CEADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  211 

and  the  asylum  managers,  while  the  numerous  institutions 
seem  like  a  ring,  or  brotherhood,  in  which  one  member  is 
bound  to  uphold  and  support  the  acts  of  the  others.  Why, 
Bella,  here  are  you,  a  young,  innocent  girl,  put  in  here  by 
your  brother,  who  asserts  that  you  are  insane,  and  assumes 
authority  over  you  !  Now,  you  might  stay  here  till  the  end 
of  your  days,  unless  we  who  are  your  own  flesh  and  blood 
get  you  out.  Nobody  else  cares,  of  course  ;  that  is,  not  par 
ticularly  ;  or,  if  they  do  care,  they  have  no  legal  right  to  get 
3'ou.  I  have  been  looking  into  it,  and  have  got  one  of 
those  sharp-eyed  lawyers  to  search  it  out  for  me ;  and  if 
Fred  doesn't  let  go  his  hold  upon  you,  and  let  you  come  out 
of  here  fairly  and  squarely,  so  that  there  shall  be  no  hitches 
or  drawbacks  to  prevent  your  being  free,  and  the  mistress 
of  your  own  property  again,  I  shall  go  into  law  myself,  and 
try  what  can  be  done  by  knocking  law  against  law.  I 
mean  the  laws  of  men,  Bella.  The  statutes  of  God  do  not 
conflict  in  that  way ;  but  law  processes  are  expensive. 
Once  in  them,  a  man  does  not  know  how  deep  he  may  need 
to  dip  into  his  pocket ;  and,  before  I  enter,  I  must  be  sure 
of  my  ground.  I  must  know  how  every  thing  is,  according 
to  the  statutes ;  and  I  must  have  money  ready  to  back  my 
self.  You  see  it,  don't  you  ?  Well,  I  came  down  from  the 
Aroostook  with  a  lot  of  unfinished  contracts  on  hand.  It 
will  take  me  all  winter  to  carry  them  out.  When  I  got  to 
Boston,  I  found  out  about  you,  and  my  sense  of  justice  came 
up.  I  determined  to  look  into  the  case,  and  this  is  my 
decision.  I  must  go  back  to  the  Aroostook,  and  stay  till 
spring,  till  the  ice  breaks.  And  then,  when  the  rivers  give 
way,  I  will  come  down  ;  and,  if  Fred  does  not  change,  I  will 
spend  every  cent  of  my  property,  or  you  shall  be  free. 
Don't  run  away  again,  though  I  think  it  is  all  right  to  go 
in  that  way ;  because  every  innocent  man  and  woman  has  a 
right  to  liberty,  and  there  is  nothing  dishonorable  in  taking 


212  BELLA  ; 

it.  But  you  see  this  institution  holds  you  legally ;  and,  if 
you  go  off  surreptitiously,  the  people  here  have  legal  power 
to  go  after  you,  and  they  will  do  it,  and  hunt  for  you  as 
if  there  was  a  price  on  your  head.  They  do  not  mind 
whether  you  ought,  or  ought  not,  to  be  free.  You  are 
their  property,  and  they  go  for  you.  Now,  that  would  be  no 
freedom  for  you :  you  would  feel  like  a  hunted  criminal. 
You  see  it,  don't  you  ?  " 

She  had  listened  attentively  to  every  word ;  and  she  an 
swered,  "  Yes,  Harry,  I  see  it.  You  want  me  to  stay  here 
till  spring,  and  let  Edward  go  back  without  me." 

"  Just  so,  little  one.  Edward  cannot  stay  on  here.  He 
cannot  afford  to ;  and,  besides,  the  family  of  his  bride  have 
made  preparations  for  her  to  go.  And  he  ought  to  go.  And 
when  you  go,  Bella,  I  am  going.  I  think  I  will  go  out 
there,  and  settle  with  you.  I  am  a  rough  kind  of  a  man ; 
but  you  would  give  me  a  place  at  your  fireside,  wouldn't 
you  ?  " 

"  0  Harry,  I  would  be  so  glad,  so  happy ! "  And  she 
kissed  him  again. 

"  Well,  then,  little  one,  the  matter  is  settled ;  and  you 
and  I  will  sink  or  swim  together,  eh  ?  You  can  trust  me. 
You  do  not  fear  to  trust  me  ?  " 

"  No,  Harry,  I  do  not ;  but,"  and  she  raised  her  eyes  to 
her  surroundings,  "  I  do  hate  to  stay  here.  It  is  such  a 
disagreeable  place  ! " 

"  I  know  it.  No,  I  do  not  suppose  I  know  it ;  for  we 
can  only  know  such  things  by  personal  trial.  But  you  see 
how  it  is  :  I  can  do  no  better  for  you  just  now.  And  you 
have  high  blood,  Bella;  and  you  will  not  disgrace  your 
ancestry  by  flinching  in  the  hour  of  trial.  Bear  bravely ; 
and  remember  there  is  a  God  who  is  always  with  us.  Keep 
with  him.  I  am  rough,  Bella.  People  might  judge  that  I 
am  not  God's  j  but  he  looks  at  the  heart  and  at  the  soul, 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  213 

at  its  integrity  and  truth.  And  when  I  am  out  in  the  pine 
woods,  and  hear  the  wind  roar  among  the  trees  as  if  the  sea 
had  broken  bounds,  and  the  waves  were  dashing  on  in  deso 
lation,  and,  looking  up,  I  see  the  little  birds  sitting  fear 
lessly  on  the  branches,  and  the  squirrels  frisking  their 
bushy  tails  in  happy  contentment,  I  say,  '  Behold,  all  things 
are  in  the  hollow  of  thy  hand,  0  Lord  !  and  lie  there  safely  ; 
for  thou  givest  them  peace  and  rest.  In  the  hands  of  that 
God  I  leave  you,  Bella ;  and,  with  his  permission,  when  the 
ice  goes  roaring  down  the  rivers,  I  will  come ;  .and  it  is  you 
and  I  together,  then,  my  little  Bella.  Kiss  me  once  more ; 
for  I  must  go,  and  you  must  bear. 

'  For  men  must  work,  and  women  must  weep, 
And  the  sea  goes  on  with  its  moaning.' 

There,  I  am  getting  poetical.  But  good-by !  Give  me  a 
good,  hearty  shake  of  the  hand.  I  like  a  big  grasp." 

He  turned  then  to  go  out,  but  turned  back  again.  "  I 
came  near  forgetting  :  don't  you  want  some  money  ?  I 
imagine  Fred  doesn't  make  you  much  allowance." 

"  He  hasn't  given  me  any." 

"  I  thought  likely.  Take  that.  If  you  can't  use  it  for 
yourself,  and  do  not  need  it,  you  will  find  somebody  that 
does." 

Then  he  laid  a  roll  in  her  hand ;  and,  drawing  his  own 
rough  hand  across  his  eyes  as  if  to  brush  away  a  mist,  he 
went  out.  Bella  heard  his  heavy  steps  recede,  heard  the 
door  click,  and  then  she  could  hear  no  more.  She  sat  down 
in  her  chair  again,  and  rested  her  elbow  on  the  window-sill, 
where  it  was  before  he  came  ;  and  there,  close  by  the  iron 
bars,  she  unrolled  and  counted  her  bills. 

This  visit  of 'Harry's  was  a  great  comfork  She  knew 
now  what  she  must  expect,  and  the  hard  features  of  the 
situation  lay  in  her  mind ;  but  suspense  was  gone,  and 
Harry  had  given  her  strength. 


214  BELLA  ; 

"I  shall  write  to  Mortimer,"  Harry  had  said.  ''He 
knows  he  can  trust  me"  She  remembered  this  when  she 
recalled  the  conversation ;  and  remembered  also  the  volume 
of  meaning  that  he  put  in  that  one  word  me.  It  was  not 
arrogance,  nor  vanity,  nor  self-conceit,  but  a  simple,  honest, 
outspoken  trust  in  himself;  and  she  understood  it. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  Mortimer  can  trust  him.  Good  old 
Harry  never  fails." 

The  patients  looked  at  each  other  in  disappointment 
when  Harry  was  gone.  "  Poor  Miss  Forresst !  We  did 
hope  she  would  go  !  " 

But  the  supervisors  and  employees  said,  "  La  !  we  knew 
she  wouldn't  go  !  Her  folks  don't  want  her  !  She  is  love- 
cracked." 

Changes  of  halls  and  cells  were  constantly  taking  place, 
the  supervisors  and  physicians  never  seeming  satisfied  with 
the  way  the  patients  were ;  and  among  those  who  were 
brought  into  Annie's  hall,  Bella  saw  Jessonica.  Three 
months  before,  Jessonica  Wade  was  brought  to  the  asylum 
by  the  basest  treachery.  A  doctor  had  been  hired  to  sign 
a  certificate,  and  a  second  doctor  signed  in  compliment  to 
the  first ;  and  the  judge  completed  the  documents.  She  was 
carried  to  the  asylum  by  two  men,  and  left  standing  within 
the  doors,  a  friendless  prisoner  among  strangers.  The  super 
intendent  pitied  her.  He  drew  her  hand  within  his  arm, 
and  himself  led  her  up  the  stairs.  As  they  went,  he  gently 
pressed  her  hand  within  his  own.  She  glanced  up  with  a 
timid  air,  and  said,  "  You  need  not  hold  my  hand  so  tightly, 
doctor :  I  shall  not  run  away." 

He  looked  down  upon  her  kindly.  "  I  did  not  think  of 
that,  my  child;  but  you  are  so  young,  so  tender,  that  I 
pitied  you  for  what  has  come  upon  you  ;  and  I  pressed  your 
hand  to  show  you  that -we  are  not  all  unkind,  and  that  wa 
surely  will  be  tender  of  you." 


OE,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  215 

She  learned,  afterwards,  that  attendants  do  not  always 
fulfil  the  medical  assurances.  She  was  very  lonely.  There 
was  a  sociable  gotten  up  in  the  chapel  by  the  superin 
tendent.  Jessouica,  fresh  from  Washington,  dressed  for 
this  occasion  as  for  a  party.  With  the  license  of  a  blonde, 
she  wore  a  tissue  of  azure  on  which  were  spangles  of  golden 
stars.  The  matron,  seeing  her  beauty,  placed  in  her  hand 
a  rose-bud,  and  threw  over  her  hair  a  spray  of  green.  Thus 
attired,  she  entered  the  asylum  chapel,  a  prisoner  among 
prisoners.  She  was  a  gem  in  an  oasis.  So  thought  Mr. 
Gervase  as  he  saw  her  enter. 

And  who  is  Mr.  Gervase  ?  He  is  a  gentleman  of  fine 
countenance  and  noble  demeanor,  heir  to  a  large  estate. 
His  father  died  while  he  was  yet  young.  He  was  consigned 
to  an  asylum.  To  pay  his  board  required  but  a  small  sum 
from  his  inherited  income ;  and,  from  that  time  to  this,  he 
has  lived  within  barred  walls.  A  visitor,  in  passing  through, 
struck  with  the  noble  face  and  demeanor  of  Mr.  Gervase, 
turned  to  the  attendant,  and  asked,  "  What  is  the  matter 
with  that  gentleman  ?  What  caused  his  insanity  ?  "  —  "  He 
is  not  insane,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  —  "  How  ?  "  queried  the 
gentleman.  "  Can  you  keep  gentlemen  here  as  patients 
who  are  not  insane  ?  " 

"  His  friends  do  it,  sir.     We  are  not  responsible." 

"  On  what  grounds  can  they  do  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  it  is  easy  enough  !  He  was  a  minor,  sworn  in 
here  by  those  who  thought  his  inheritance  convenient  for 
them.  The  reason  that  put  him  in  keeps  him  here." 

The  visitor  gave  Mr.  Gervase  a  searching  look  of  pity, 
and  passed  along.  Mr.  Gervase  still  continues  to  live  in 
asylum  halls,  an  American  gentleman  who  has  never  known 
his  rights.  He  was  in  the  chapel  when  Jessonica  entered. 
Struck  by  her  fairy  loveliness,  he  went  to  the  superin 
tendent,  and  requested  an  introduction.  The  superintendent 


216  BELLA  ; 

complied  ;  and  Mr.  Gervase,  with  graceful  ease,  stood  beside 
the  lily  girl.  He  admired  her  flower,  talked  a  little,  and 
pleased  her  by  his  courteous  ways ;  but  in  the  midst  he 
suddenly  paused,  and,  looking  admiringly  in  her  face,  he 
remarked,  "  Pardon  me,  Miss  Jessonica,  but  allow  me  to 
say  that  you  are  very  beautiful." 

He  bowed,  but  Jessonica  was  offended.  Her  eyes  turned 
up  in  disapproval. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  seeing  her  disapproval ;  "  but  we 
gentlemen  who  reside  here  see  so  very  little  that  is  beauti 
ful,  that,  when  we  do  find  it,  we  must  of  necessity  forego 
etiquette,  and  speak  our  thoughts.  But  allow  me  to  say, 
that,  if  you  stay  here  six  months,  I  shall  not  wish  to  see 
you ;  for  you  will  not  be  as  beautiful  then  as  now." 

Jessonica  was  impressed  by  this  remark,  from  one  who 
thoroughly  knew  the  effects  of  this  restricted  existence. 
Alas  !  she  lived  to  know  how  truly  he  had  judged.  Three 
months  had  scarcely  passed,  and  the  superintendent,  who 
had  promised  her  tenderness,  had  permitted  her  to  be 
removed  from  hall  to  hall,  to  be  the  butt  of  coarse  girls, 
and  to  be  placed  in  juxtaposition  with  low  minds,  till  her 
delicate  system  was  shattered.  She  no  longer  wore  or  cared 
for  the  azure,  her  beauty  was  tarnished,  she  wailed  for  her 
mother,  and  cried  for  her  lost  hopes.  In  the  night-time 
Bella  could  hear  her  cry ;  and  she  said,  "  I  would  I  could 
lay  bare  these  secrets,  and  open  these  doors,  if  but  for  thy 
sake,  sweet  Jessonica." 

There  came  into  this  hall,  or  rather  there  was  put  into 
this  hall,  another  young  girl,  a  tall,  dark-eyed  girl,  with  rosy 
cheeks,  and  pleasant  countenance.  She  was  a  factory  girl, 
paying  her  board  from  her  own  hard-earned  money,  to  be 
cured ;  and  she,  too,  wandered  up  and  down  in  loneliness. 
The  three  girls  formed  a  band  of  friendship ;  and  Jessonica, 
resting  her  head  on  the  tall  girl's  bosom,  said,  "Dear  Ben- 
edicta !  what  should  I  do  without  you  ?  " 


OJ&,   THE   CRADLE   OF   LIBERTY.  217 

"  Why  call  me  Benedicta  ?  "  said  the  tall  girl,  stroking 
her  fair  hair. 

"  Because  you  are  my  blessing,  my  Benedicta;  and,  with 
out  you,  I  should  faint  in  this  weary  place." 

When  mental  science  takes  a  new  basis,  when  society  is 
dispossessed  of  the  idea  that  insanity  is  a  disease  to  be 
treated  with  isolation  and  barbarity,  then  people  will  look 
back  upon  present  methods  of  treating  it  with  as  great 
wonder  as  we  look  back  upon  the  past  methods  of  its  treat 
ment. 

It  was  not  the  original  design  of  asylum-founders  that 
the  buildings  should  be  used  to  make  people  insane.  When 
it  was  urged  as  a  plea  for  building  them,  that  there  were 
miserable  lunatics  confined  in  attics  and  almshouses  who 
could  be  made  comfortable  in  these  halls,  it  was  not  sup 
posed  that  they  were  to  be  filled  by  young  girls  and  boys 
fresh  from  school,  or  gentlemen  and  ladies  from  comfortable 
homes,  or  old  people  thrown  into  them  by  the  heartless 
young ;  nor  were  they  designed  as  receptacles  for  persons 
whom  ignorant  physicians  sent  to  them  to  hide  their  own 
stupidity. 

A  generation  back,  —  and  many  of  that  generation  are 
still  living,  —  when  doctors  had  a  difficult  case,  they  disposed 
of  it  by  calomel.  It  was  the  sovereign  resort,  and  was  admin 
istered  to  people  till  their  swollen  tongues  and  cancerous 
mouths  made  them  hideous,  and  their  teeth  fell  out  in  con 
sequence.  Persons  who  were  salivated  never  again  had 
pure,  healthy  systems,  and  doctors  knew  they  could  not ;  yet 
they  persisted  in  administering  this  poison  till  the  common 
sense  of  the  people  drove  it  out  of  sight.  What  calomel 
was  then  in  the  medical  science  of  physical  treatment,  insane 
asylums  now  are  in  mental  diseases. 

Chains  and  cages  are  not  used  in  our  asylums ;  but 
blinded  cells  take  the  place  of  cages,  and  for  chains  we  have 

19 


218  BELLA  ; 

coarse  jackets,  —  camisoles  they  are  called,  —  and  strong 
leather  straps ;  while  the  attendants  practise,  at  their  own 
wills,  poundings,  kickings,  pushings,  pullings,  jerkings  by 
the  hair,  jerkings  by  the  ears,  lockings  in  and  lockings  out, 
and  that  never-ceasing  method  of  discipline,  the  free  and 
varying  use  of  the  keys. 

Annie  practised  none  of  these  things ;  but  Bella  saw 
them,  and  heard  them  all  about  her.  She  saw  gangs  made 
up  for  the  work-rooms,  — the  laundry,  the  kitchen,  the  sew 
ing-rooms  ;  and  she  saw  how  "handy"  the  keys  were  for 
mallets  on  the  heads  and  shoulders  'of  the  lagging.  She 
saw  these  things,  and  they  stirred  her  soul. 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  219 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ITUATED  as  Annie's  hall  was,  in  the  centre  of 
the  wing-divisions,  Bella  heard  the  cries,  above, 
below,  and  around  her.  This  hall  was  used  as  a 
passage  for  the  working  bands.  They  often 
paused  and  waited  here,  while  their  leaders  chose 
other  workers  from  this  hall ;  and  Bella  saw  sad,  pale,  sor 
rowful  women  among  them ;  and  often  they  were  weeping 
on  their  way.  Bella  saw  one  thin,  sad  woman  walking  in 
tears,  and  her  sobs  became  audible  in  her  distress.  "  Dry 
up,  there  !  "  shouted  one  of  the  leaders ;  and,  reaching  his 
hand  across  another  woman,  he  struck  this  woman  on  her 
head  with  his  keys.  The  blood  came  out,  and  saturated  her 
hair.  Bella's  heart  leaped  with  horror  ;  but  the  man  said, 
"  That'll  teach  her  to  behave  herself,  and  not  be  whining 
along."  This  man  came  from  the  laundry. 

"  Come  along,"  he  said  to  a  young  Irish  girl  in  Annie's 
hall,  one  day.  "  You  are  just  what  we  want  down  in  the 
laundry.  You  are  young  and  healthy.  Come  along." 

The  girl  was  young  and  pretty,  more  intelligent  than 
most  of  her  class  ;  and  she  had  formed  a  secret  attachment 
for  Miss  Forresst.  The  independence  of  Bella,  and  her 
evident  sympathy,  made  her  a  sort  of  heroine  among  the 
patients  ;  and  many  who  never  spoke  to  her  felt  a  chival 
rous  trust  in  her,  that,  under  other  circumstances,  might 
have  led  them  to  organize,  with  her  as  leader.  This  young 
girl  turned  away  from  the  harsh  laundry-man,  and  fled 


220  BELLA  ; 

into  Bella's  room.  Bella  was  sitting  in  her  chair,  the  girl 
dropped  by  her  side,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  lap.  "  Save 
me,  Miss  Forresst,  save  me !  Don't  let  -him  take  me  !" 

"  I  cannot  save  you,"  said  Bella.  "  I  have  no  power.  I 
could  not  save  myself.  If  I  knew  how  to  do  that  work, 
they  would  make  me  go  too." 

"  Come  along  here !  "  ejaculated  the  man  in  a  loud  voice, 
forcing  his  way  into  Bella's  room.  "  You  needn't  come  in 
here  to  hide.  Come  along,  I  say." 

"I  can't,  I  can't!  "said  the  girl.  "I  have  ironed  and 
ironed  till  I  am  tired  all  out,  and  my  wrist  aches,  and  my 
feet  ache  with  standing,  and  I  am  hungry.  I  ironed  all 
this  forenoon ;  and  I  have  had  nothing  for  dinner,  except  a 
few  spoonfuls  of  that  sloshy  soup,  and  I  can't  work,  and  I 
won't  work.  0  Miss  Forresst,  save  me ! " 

Bella  looked  up  into  the  man's  coarse,  unfeeling  face. 
"  Can  she  not  rest  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"What  is  it  to  you?"  he  said.  "If  she  don't  want  to 
work,  she  must  get  a  reprieve  from  the  doctor.  When  he 
tells  me  not  to  take  her  out,  I  shall  leave  her  in ;  not  till 
then.  Come  along,  I  say." 

Bella  stooped,  kissed  the  young  face,  and  said,  "  Go,  Mar- 
gey  :  it  is  best.  I  hope  you  will  not  always  be  here." 

The  man  cast  upon  them  a  look  of  contempt ;  and,  seiz 
ing  Margey  by  the  shoulder,  he  jerked  her  up  from  the 
floor,  and  pushed  her  out  of  the  room.  A  crowd  of  women 
were  gathered  there  listening.  He  raised  his  keys,  and 
swept  them  in  a  semi-circle  into  their  faces.  "  Get  out  of 
the  way,"  he  said.  "  Be  oif  with  you.  Here,  where's  rny 
lot  ?  File  up  here  I  can't  waste  no  more  time  !  " 

He  pushed  M#rgey  into  the  column,  and  filed  them  all 
off  together.  That  nighl^  when  Margey  was  returning 
with  the  file,  they  met  the  superintendent.  "  Doctor,"  said 
Margey,  looking  up  pleadingly,  "  I  am  tired." 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  221 

"  So  am  I,"  he  answered  coolly ;  and,  turning  on  his 
heel,  he  walked  away. 

Bella  was  sitting  quietly  in  her  room  one  sunshiny  morn 
ing,  when  the  matron  paused  at  her  door.  A  lady  was  by 
the  matron's  side.  "  Good-morning,  Miss  Forresst,"  said 
the  matron.  "Allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  Miss  Dix." 

Bella's  eyes  opened.  "  Is  it  the  Miss  Dix  of  whom  I 
have  read  and  heard  so  much  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  it  is  the  same." 

"  You  have  come,"  said  Bella,  "  to  visit  us  prisoners." 

"No,  not  prisoners.  You  must  not  consider  yourselves 
prisoners.  You  are  only  staying  here  for  your  health." 
And  Miss  Dix  smiled  in  her  endeavor  to  impress  this 
idea. 

"  We  are  prisoners,"  Bella  responded,  "  close  prisoners  ; 
and  if  you  lived  as  we  do,  Miss  Dix,  you  would  find  it 
out." 

The  matron  touched  Miss  Dix",  and  said,  "  We  will  pass 
along."  Then  the  matron  said,  as  they  went  out  of  hear 
ing,  "  It  is  of  no  use  to  talk  to  her.  She  is  incorrigible." 

And  Bella  said  in  her  heart,  "  Yes,  Miss  Dix  would  find 
it  so.  She  visits  asylums  and  prisons,  but  she  knows 
nothing  about  them,  after  all.  To  know  these  places,  we 
must  live  in  the  bondage  of  them,  and  endure." 

What  Bella  said  of  Miss  Dix  is  true  of  all  visitors. 
Especially  is  it  true  of  trustees. 

These  gentlemen,  appointed  by  legal  authority,  and 
selected  from  very  respectable  classes,  are  too  polite  to  in 
vestigate.  They  see  the  surface,  under  such  colorings  aa 
are  given  by  official  representations ;  and  it  is  impossible 
for  them  to  see  otherwise.  Gentlemen  of  their  breeding 
and  habits  would  feel  that  they  had  broken  the  laws  of 
courtesy,  if  they  went  into  such  methods  of  examination 
as  are  absolutely  necessary  for  discovering  the  real  condi- 

19* 


222  BELLA  ; 

tion  of  asylum  life.  The  regular  trustee-days  are  days 
set  apart  by  themselves.  From  end  to  end  of  the  build 
ings,  in  every  department,  everybody  is  in  preparation. 
Patients  who  have  scarce  seen  light  since  the  last  trustee- 
day  are  brought  out,  and  dressed,  and  are  perhaps,  when 
the  trustees  pass,  playing  back-gammon,  or  reading,  or 
sewing.  Music-rooms  and  reading-rooms  are  thrown  open, 

—  rooms  that  are  never  opened  except  when  visitors  are 
coming ;  and  patients  are  warned  not  to  cry  or  complain, 

—  not  only  warned,  but  commanded ;    and   not  only  com 
manded,  but  threatened  with  punishment  afterwards  if  they 
dare  utter  one  word  of  complaint  in  the  presence  of  the 
gentlemen. 

Nor  do  trustees  succeed  much  better  if  they  drop  in 
unawares.  They  can  get  no  farther  than  the  office  until 
they  are  escorted.  The  keys  that  lock  the  patients  in  hold 
trustees  and  visitors  out;  and  there  are  inner  telegraph 
wires  of  communication,  that  is,  the  means  of  transmitting 
intelligence  from  hall  to  hall  are  so  complete,  that,  almost 
with  electric  quickness,  the  most  distant  hall  attendants 
are  apprised  when  visitors  are  likely  to  come.  Five  minutes 
sometimes  makes  miraculous  changes  under  this  com 
plete  organization.  And  then  the  supervisors  always  know 
in  which  halls  there  is  trouble  ;  and,  among  so  many  wards, 
there  are  generally  some  quiet  ones.  These  are  selected 
for  the  inspection  of  visitors. 

The  great  work  of  preparing  for  visitors  does  not  con 
sist  in  tidying  the  halls,  for  uncleanliness  is  not  a  cardinal 
fault  in  our  asylums.  The  housekeepers  are  generally 
thrifty,  cleanly,  and  thorough  in  work ;  but  to  suppress 
the  cryings,  hush  the  nioanings,  and  put  the  unhappy 
people  into  comfortable  positions,  is  an  art.  All  this  also 
did  Bella  see,  and  she  talked  about  it.  She  would  not 
keep  still,  for  her  heart  was  in  pain. 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  223 

Nor  would  she  be  silent  with  reference  to  the  food.  "  I 
would  like  to  send  some  of  our  dinners  to  Boston  for  ex 
hibition,"  she  said.  "  I  think  people  would  be  astonished 
at  both  quantity  and  quality.  Do  you  think,  Annie,  that 
the  food  here  is  fit  for  human  beings  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  answered  Annie,  "  that  it  is  not  fit  for  dumb 
animals,  much  less  for  us;  and  I  am  ashamed  to  preside 
at  a  table  of  ladies,  when  I  have  so  little  to  offer  them.  I 
sometimes  see  them  look  nauseated  at  the  quality  of  the 
inferior  messes.  Sometimes  they  leave  the  table  as  hungry 
as  they  sat  down ;  and  sometimes  I  am  hungry  myself, 
because  I  cannot  relish  such  dishes." 

"  It's  a  mystery  how  the  women  can  live  so,  year  after 
year,"  Bella  remarked. 

"  They  acclimate,  Miss  Forresst.  They  get  sick,  faint, 
nauseate,  vomit,  then  rally,  until  at  last  they  get  broken 
in,  and  can  eat  any  thing.  They  have  told  me  about  it." 

"  I  don't  see  why  they  need  starve  us,"  Bella  returned. 
"  The  institution  has  pay  for  every  patient.  They  can 
afford  to  hire  laborers,  to  keep  carpenters  and  other  work 
men  ;  the  tables  of  the  superintendent  abound  in  plenty, 
the  trustees  and  visitors  are  dined  elegantly,  the  kitchens 
are  full  of  good  food,  and  the  lowest  servants  luxuriate  in 
nice  tea  and  coffee  with  cream  and  white  sugar.  But  we 
patients,  boarders,  for  whom  the  place  was  founded,  sit  in 
these  cells  day  after  day,  famishing.  There  are.  farms 
connected  with  the  establishment ;  but  the  nice  products 
are  either  sold,  or  consumed  by  the  employees.  Very 
little  good  fresh  food  reaches  the  inner,  desolate  halls 
where  the  need  is  greatest.  Unlocked,  open  doors  would 
remedy  this  kind  of  abuse." 

Now,  this  talk  was  treason.  If  the  girls  had  been  over 
heard,  one  would  have  been  locked  into  a  cell,  the  other 
discharged. 


224  BELLA  ; 

At  the  next  dinner  Bella  tried  to  swallow  her  cold 
watery  potato,  but  could  not.  She  arose  disgusted,  and 
went  to  her  room.  There  she  took  the  roll  Harry  left, 
and  counted  out  what  she  thought  necessary.  Then  she 
hied  to  Annie,  and  said,  "  Dear  Annie,  I  am  so  hungry ; 
and  here  is  money.  Do  you  think  you  could  get  leave  to 
go  out,  and  buy  me  something?  Or  are  you  afraid  to 
ask  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid  to  ask,  Miss  Forresst ;  and,  if  I  go  out, 
I  do  not  know  that  what  I  buy  or  do  is  anybody's  business. 
I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  sold  my  liberty." 

Bella  then  gave  her  the  money  and  the  order,  saying, 
"  You  shall  share  with  me." 

"Oh,  no!  "said  Anuie,  "don't  buy  for  me.  There  are 
others  here  who  need  food  more  than  I  do." 

That  night  there  was  a  general  surprise  and  gratification 
through  the  hall.  Bella  went  from  room  to  room,  and 
from  woman  to  woman,  with  her  little  gifts.  Cheese, 
pickles,  cakes,  oranges,  and  other  relishes,  such  as  they 
never  saw  in  that  place,  gladdened  many  sad  persons,  and 
thanks  went  to  Miss  Forresst  from  every  direction  ;  and 
she,  speaking  freely  her  thoughts,  ate  her  own  purchased 
supper  that  night. 

Such  boldness  of  action  and  speech  did  not  escape  un 
observed.  The  matron  came  to  Bella.  "  Is  it  true,  Miss 
Forresst,  that  you  report  our  patients  as  being  hungry  ?  " 

"  It  is  true  that  they  are  hungry,"  Bella  replied  firmly. 
"When  I  was  in  the  other  hall,  I  always  saw  enough  in 
quantity,  but  here  there  is  not  enough  even  of  this  mean 
quality.  There  are  twenty-three  women  in  our  dining- 
rooin  ;  and  this  noon  I  am  sure  ten  would  have  eaten  every 
mouthful  there  was  on  the  tables." 

"  But  you  know  it  is  always  best  to  live  plain." 

"  Plain,  plain  !  "  said  Bella,  "  what  do  you  call  plain  ?    A 


Oil,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  225 

piece  of  salt  fish  as  large  as  your  finger?     You  do  not  live 
so  at  your  table.  Mrs.  Matron." 

"  We  have  salt  fish  at  our  table  sometimes." 

"  But  you  have  other  things  ?  " 

"  Ye-es,  of  course  we  do.  I  am  not  particularly  fond  of 
salt  fish  myself." 

"  You  are  not,  are  you  ?  I  presume  not.  Nor  am  I. 
Nor  are  these  other  ladies  who  are  boarding  here ;  but  they 
have  to  eat  it,  because  they  are  locked  in  here  where  there 
is  nothing  better." 

"  But  we  cannot  afford  to  board  you  any  better.  Our 
means  do  not  allow  it,  and  patients  should  not  expect  it." 

"Then  give  up  the  institution,"  Bella  responded.  "I 
would  not  try  to  have  an  institution,  if  it  must  be  so  poor 
as  to  starve  its  patients.  These  women  live  in  constant, 
systematic,  half-starvation,  and  we  all  feel  like  famished 
wolves.  Last  evening  I  asked  Annie  for  one  mouthful  of 
something  to  stop  my  faintness.  All  she  had  was  half  a 
cup  of  black  molasses.  I  ate  it,  and  tried  to  sleep ;  but  I 
could  not  sleep  for  hunger,  and  I  cried ;  yes,  I  wept  for 
myself  and  for  these  others  shut  up  here  in  a  land  of 
plenty  to  half  starve.  Mrs.  Matron,  you  know  these  things; 
and  you  countenance  them  :  you  do  it  coolly.  You  officers 
of  these  asylums  join  together  in  these  plans.  You  tor- 
respond,"  — 

"  Miss  Forresst,  hush  ! "  said  the  matron  sternly.  "  You 
must  not  say  such  things !  You  will  raise  rebellion 
among  our  patients." 

"  Let  me  out,  then,"  answered  Bella.  "  I  stay  here  day 
and  night :  I  hear  the  groans,  and  see  the  tears.  If  I 
must  not  speak,  let  me  out." 

"  We  cannot  let  you  out.  It  is  your  friends  who  keep 
you  here.  But  you  must  be  quiet,  and  cease  to  criticise 
our  arrangements,  or  we  must  put  you  still  lower.  There 
are  lower  halls  than  this,  you  know." 


226  BELLA  ; 

"  Put  me  there,  then.  I  want  to  go.  I  wish  I  could  go. 
I  want  to  see  what  is  done  down  there.  When  I  hear  the 
terrihle  noises  that  come  from  there,  I  want  to  know  what 
makes  them,  and  what  is  done  to  those  poor  haggard  crea 
tures.  Yes,  put  me  there  ;  and  then  I  shall  see  for  myself 
what  is  done." 

"  Miss  Forresst,  you  are  wild !  Go  to  your  room,  and 
stay  there ! " 

That  night  an  official  order  went  to  the  kitchen  depart 
ment.  "Send  an  extra  loaf  of  bread  to  the  hall  of  the 
upper  wing." 

"Hall  of  the  upper  wing  is  always  grumbling,"  came 
back  from  the  kitchen.  "  It  has  more  now  than  any  other 
of  the  wing  halls." 

This  answer  was  transmitted  to  Annie.  It  was  true  that 
she  had  several  times  sent  to  the  kitchen  for  more  bread. 
As  this  reply  was  given  her,  she  said,  "  God  save  us !  If 
the  others  have  less  than  we,  I  do  not  wonder  they  are 
crazy."  And  this  response  was  also  transmitted.  It 
reached  official  ears.  The  matron  entered  the  hall  again, 
and  met  Bella  walking.  She  had  not  remained  in  her 
room  as  she  was  bidden. 

"  Miss  Forresst,"  said  the  matron,  "  you  are  at  the  foun 
dation  of  this  trouble.  For  your  own  credit  you  should  not 
be  talking  such  things." 

"For  your  own  credit,"  responded  Bella,  "you  should 
have  an  institution  that  does  not  require  such  things  to 
be  said ! " 

"But,  Miss  Forrest,  this  is  an  old  established  house, 
patronized  by  the  best  of  people.  We  have,  among  our 
patients,  gentlemen  who  write,  and  support  their  families 
by  their  pens." 

"  The  greater  the  shame,  then,"  Bella  returned.  "  If 
gentlemen  are  capable  of  supporting  their  families  by  their 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.      -  227 

pens,  they  surely  ought  to  have  some  different  life  from 
this  !  To  shut  men  of  brain  and  thought  into  these  nar 
row,  harren  prisons  is  an  outrage  upon  nature." 

Without  another  word  the  matron  turned  away.  Meet 
ing  the  supervisor,  she  said,  "I  do  not  know  what  to  do 
with  Miss  Forresst.  I  see  no  way  to  quell  her." 

"  I  do  !  "  was  the  supervisor's  emphatic  reply. 


228  BELLA ; 


CHAPTER  XXL 

have  brought  the  patient,  Miss  Darius,"  the  super 
visor  remarked. 

This  was  all  she  said.     She  went  out ;  and  Bella 
was  left  alone  with  her  new  mistress. 

The  supervisor  was  right  when  she  said  she  knew 
what  to  do  with  Miss  Forresst.  She  did  know.  She  knew 
how  to  hush  complaints,  or,  rather,  she  knew  who  did  know 
how.  Not  an  instant's  warning  did  Bella  have,  when  she 
left  Annie's  hall.  "  Come  with  me,"  the  supervisor  said, 
and  laid  her  hand  heavily  on  Bella's  shoulder.  Bella  went. 
Out  again  through  musty  passages,  toward  a  far-away,  low , 
hall,  a  hall  that  in  itself  was  musty  as  the  passages.  It 
seemed  that  the  very  walls  were  full  of  miasma,  such  mi 
asma  as  accumulates  from  the  breaths  and  effluvias  of  in 
numerable  human  beings  through  a  long  period  of  close 
confinement.  Persons  unaccustomed  catch  their  breath, 
and  almost  reel,  when  they  enter  such  air.  Insane  prisoners 
live  in  it  for  the  benefit  of  their  minds. 

Mercy  wept  when  Bella  Forresst  stood  before  Miss  Da 
rius  ;  but  Bella  did  not  weep  —  she  was  past  weeping.  She 
had  entered  on  the  heroic  stage.  She  felt  somewhat  as 
martyrs  may  be  supposed  to  feel  when  first  they  resolve  to 
do,  and  dare,  and  die. 

Miss  Darius  rolled  out  her  great  white  eyes,  and  scanned 
every  line  of  her  captive's  countenance  ;  but  Bella  did  not 
flinch.  She  looked  up  steadily  under  the  ordeal,  and  then 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  229 

she  smiled.  It  was  not  a  smile  of  happiness,  but  of  defi 
ance  and  disdain.  Miss  Darius  understood  it.  "  I'll  fetch 
you  down,  Miss  ! "  was  her  inward  thought. 

Miss  Darius  understood  her  profession.  There  was  no 
insubordination  in  her  department.  Ladies  or  ladies'  maids, 
Yankee,  Irish,  Swede,  or  French,  young,  middle-aged,  or 
old,  feeble  or  healthy,  insane  or  sane,  whatever  or  whoever 
came  under  her  dominion  —  "  stepped."  That  was  her 
favorite  word. 

"I  do  not  need  anybody  to  teach  me  how  to  handle 
patients." 

That  was  her  boast. 

"  I  can  manage  the  refractory." 

That  was  another  boast. 

Bella  was  not  consigned  to  her  as  refractory,  but  as 
troublesome.  Miss  Darius  understood  the  difference.  She 
understood  that  Miss  Forresst  was  discerning,  and  inclined 
to  look  behind  the  scenes. 

"  I'll  take  her  high  head  down,"  was  the  continuation  of 
Miss  Darius  thoughts  ;  but  she  only  said,  "  This  way  ! " 

Bella  followed  her  then,  and  was  ushered  into  a  room,  — 
could  it  be  called  a  room  ?  — ushered  into  a  cell,  — could  it 
be  called  a  cell  ?  "  It  seemed  more  like  an  iron  box,  with 
an  iron-barred  hole  in  one  side.  It  was  the  most  comfort 
less  place  Bella  had  yet  seen.  The  asylum  horses  were 
standing  in  much  nicer  rooms. 

There  was  literally  nothing  in  this  room  but  a  small 
hospital  bed,  and  an  old  chair.  There  was  not  a  vestige 
of  carpeting  on  the  floor,  and  the  boards  had  never  seen 
paint.  The  plastered  walls  had  been  whitewashed,  and  re- 
whitewashed,  till  the  successive  layers  were  peeling  off  like 
the  coats  of  a  moulting  animal.  Without  speaking,  Bella 
sat  down  in  the  chair. 

Miss  Darius  had  one  of  those  natures,  that,  being  placed 

20 


230  BELLA  ; 

in  charge  over  people,  many  of  whom  were  her  decided 
superiors,  felt  a  sort  of  savage  delight  in  "taking  them 
down."  She  conceived  an  instantaneous  dislike  to  Bella. 
First,  she  was  younger  than  herself;  second,  she  was  hand 
some.  It  was  hard  for  Miss  Darius  to  forgive  these  two 
faults,  even  in  free  life ;  but  when  she  saw  them  here,  and 
had  power  over  their  possessor,  she  found  an  exquisite 
pleasure  in  the  use  of  the  peculiarities  of  her  vocation. 

She  left  Bella  a  moment  alone,  and  then  returned  with 
the  first  order. 

"  Miss  Forresst,  the  last  patient  who  slept  here  com 
plained  of  bugs.  You  had  better  examine  your  bed." 

Bella  cast  a  glance  at  the  iron  bed  with  its  square-cor 
nered  foot,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  Miss  Forresst,  did  you  hear  me  ?  " 

"  I  heard." 

«  Well  ?  " 

"  Well ,"  was  Bella's  response. 

«  Will  you  attend  to  it  ?  " 

"  Is  it  my  duty  to  clean  your  beds  ?  Am  I  hired  here 
for  that  purpose  ?  " 

Miss  Darius's  eyes  flashed.  "  None  of  your  sauce  to  me ! 
I  am  hired  here  to  attend  to  such  people  as  you  ;  and  you 
will  find  that  I  am  capable.  I  am  not  one  of  your  soft 
heads ;  and,  if  you  want  to  save  yourself  trouble,  you  will 
take  off  those  bed-clothes,  and  do  your  duty." 

Bella  gazed  at  her  mistress  with  a  feeling  of  disgust,  and 
hasty  words  came  into  her  mind ;  but  she  repressed  them, 
for  she  remembered  her  position,  a  prisoner  in  the  power  of 
this  woman ;  and  she  well  knew  the  futility  of  resisting 
one  of  these  employees.  With  a  feeling  as  if  a  dead  weight 
had  fallen  upon  her,  she  arose  to  comply  with  the  disagree 
able  command,  while  her  mistress  stood  by,  watching  eager 
ly  to  make  sure  that  the  work  was  thoroughly  done.  Her 
keys  were  in  her  hand. 


OK,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  231 

The  women  in  this  hall  seemed  as  people  in  constant  fear. 
Their  countenances  wore  an  habitual  expression  of  what 
may  be  called  "  cowed."  They  were  disciplined  until  all 
natural  spirit  was  disciplined  out  of  them.  They  crouched 
and  shrank  away  at  the  approach  of  Miss  Darius. 

When  Bella  came  to  the  table,  she  saw  table  discipline  in 
full  force.  One  by  one  the  women  came,  —  not  one  staid 
away,  not  one  came  cheerfully ;  but  as  if  driven  by  unseen 
thongs  they  took  their  seats  at  the  cheerless  table.  Miss 
Darius  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  turning  her  eyes  to 
the  right  and  left.  Not  a  woman  escaped  her  scrutiny. 
She  motioned  to  a  chair  opposite  herself  for  Bella.  The 
"  troublesome  "  patient  must  be  under  the  eye  of  her  mis 
tress. 

What  a  meal  that  was !  What  meals  they  all  were  at 
Miss  Darius's  table !  The  food  was  divided  out,  and  dis 
tributed  by  Miss  Darius,  before  the  patients  entered  the 
room  ;  and,  as  they  sat  down,  they  knew  what  was  each 
one's  allowance.  If  any  woman  refused  to  eat  what  was  on 
her  plate,  she  was  reminded  of  the  force-pump  ;  if  *  any 
asked  for  more,  she  was  told,  "  Go  to  your  room !  You 
have  had  enough  !  " 

Miss  Darius  ran  a  secret  express  to  the  kitchen,  and  al 
ways  had  delicacies  hidden  away  for  herself. 

The  cleaning  of  the  bed  was  the  only  work  required  of 
Bella  on  the  first  day.  The  remainder  of  the  time  was  occu 
pied  by  Miss  Darius  in  watching  her  new  patient;  keeping 
her  eyes  fixed  on  her  as  though  to  awe  her  by  power  of 
supremacy.  It  was  very  annoying  and  wearing  to  the 
patient;  but  then  Miss  Darius  knew  how 'to  manage  insano 
patients.  The  superintendent  said  she  was  one  of  his  best 
attendants. 

The  next  morning  Miss  Darius's  method  for  Bella  be 
came  apparent.  She  was  not  to  be  strapped  and  jacketed, 


232  BELLA  ; 

nor  dragged  and  pounded  ;  but  her  cure  was  to  be  in  work. 
As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  Miss  Darius  said,  "Miss 
Forresst,  you  can  wash  my  dishes." 

Bella  paused  a  moment,  then  walked  on  toward  her  room. 
"  Miss  Forresst,  you  can  wash  my  dishes  !  " 

This  time  she  spoke  with  emphasis.  Bella  turned, 
"Washing  dishes  is  not  my  business"  in  this  house.  You 
are  hired  for  that  purpose." 

Miss  Darius  stepped  in  front  of  her.  "  Miss  Forresst, 
be  careful !  My  patients  are  not  allowed  such  expressions  ! 
You  —  will  —  wash  —  my  —  dishes  ! " 

Bella  looked  at  the  two  eyes  glaring  at  her ;  and,  for  a 
moment,  felt  as  if  she  should  like  to  put  her  two  fists  into 
them ;  but  better  thoughts  prevailed.  She  scorned  to 
quarrel  with  the  woman.  She  scorned  to  even  dispute  with 
her.  Harry  and  the  Penobscot  ice  came  to  her  recollection. 
"  'Tis  but  for  a  time,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  proudly 
turned  to  her  assigned  work. 

"  It  is  not  because  I  fear  you,"  she  remarked  to  Miss 
Darius,  "  but  I  should  be  ashamed  to  contest  with  you." 

"  I  did  not  ask  for  your  motives,"  was  Miss  Darius's  re 
ply.  "  It  is  your  work  I  want." 

That  was  the  beginning  of  days  of  toil  for  Bella.  To 
see  her  work  was  Miss  Darius's  especial  delight,  and  her 
name  was  continually  ringing  through  the  hall.  "  Bella 
Forresst,  you  may  scour  the  brasses !  Bella  Forresst,  scrub 
the  dining-room  floor !  Bella  Forresst,  sweep  the  hall ! 
Bring  my  water,  Bella  Forresst." 

Thus  Bella  became  one  of  the  asylum  slaves.  She  toiled 
till  her  hands  were  soiled,  and  her  feet  tired ;  while  Miss 
Darius  sat  with  folded  arms,  and  rocked  in  her  chair,  her 
keys  lying  within  reach.  She  was  fond  of  using  those  keys  ; 
and  if  a  blow  from  them  raised  a  protuberance,  why,  what 
matter  ?  It  was  only  on  "  a  patient." 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  233 

But  Miss  Darius  was  not  confined  to  keys  as  instruments 
of  discipline.  She  choked  one  woman  for  refusing  to  wash 
dishes.  The  woman  could  not  swallow  for  a  month  with 
out  pain.  She  kicked  another  woman  down  a  flight  of 
stairs.  The  woman  was  sitting  on  the  top  stair :  Miss 
Darius  wanted  to  pass.  "  Get  up  !  "  she  said  ;  but,  before 
the  woman  could  comply,  Miss  Darius  put  out  her  foot,  and 
sent  her  to  the  foot  of  the  flight.  .  It  did  not  kill  her,  but  it 
broke  her  hip  ;  and  now  she  hobbles  on  crutches, —  a  cripple 
for  life. 

Miss  Darixis  knocked  an  old  lady  to  the  floor,  and  broke 
her  shoulder.  They  picked  up  the  poor  old  creature,  and 
laid  her  on  her  bed.  When  the  physician  had  set  the 
broken  bone,  he  said,  "I  hope  you  will  not  cherish  hard 
feelings  towards  Miss  Darius." 

"No,"  the  old  lady  replied,  flushes  of  pain  passing  over 
her  brow.  "  She  was  a  little  more  hasty  than  usual,  that 
is  all." 

It  was  true.  Much  that  old  lady  had  suffered  from  Miss 
Darius.  She  had  been  jammed  into  chairs,  and  held  there 
for  hours ;  Miss  Darius  had  seized  her  by  the  neck,  and  ran 
her  the  length  of  the  hall,  till  it  seemed  that  the  old  lady 
must  fall ;  and  she  had  been  jerked  and  pulled  in  every 
conceivable  way. 

Miss  Darius  also  was  expert  at  keeping  women  locked 
into  their  cells  in  constant  solitude  ;  but  she  was  not  alone 
in  that.  Other  attendants  kept  them  locked,  forever  lock 
ed,  day  and  night,  in  darkness,  cold,  and  desolation,  in 
rooms  barren  of  comforts,  and  only  pittances  to  eat. 

When  Miss  Darius  ordered  women  to  their  rooms,  if  they 
did  not  step  quickly  enough  to  suit  her,  she  had  a  way  of 
going  behind  them  ;  and,  with  her  fists  doubled,  she  rat-tat- 
tatted  on  their  backs  with  all  her  force,  and  thus  drov*^ 
them  iu,  Those  who  have  had  the  misfortune  to  receive 
20* 


234  BELLA  ; 

blows  on  the  spine  know  the  cruel  sufferings  these  rat-tat- 
blows  produced. 

Miss  Darius  also  had  a  habit  of  catching  women,  bj 
hooking  her  arm  about  their  necks,  and,  with  their  bodies 
dragging  behind,  she  pulled  them  into  a  dark  closet,  and 
there  administered  punishment.  But  she  felt  that  she  had 
reached  the  acme  of  hall  management,  when,  after  dinner, 
she  marshalled  out  all  her  women,  and  seated  them  in 
chairs  along  each  side  of  the  hall.  Every  chair  stood 
square  in  its  niche,  and  every  woman  sat  square  in  her 
chair.  Miss  Darius  was  ready  for  visitors  then  ;  and  when 
visitors,  passing  through  asylums,  see  women  sitting  thus, 
let  them  think  of  Miss  Darius. 

The  asylum  officers,  passing  through  the  halls,  and  see 
ing  the  patients  sitting  thus  in  quiet  order,  give  praise  to 
the  attendants.  Miss  Darius  was  considered  a  model  at 
tendant.  Her  women,  looking  at  each  other  with  eyes  of 
silent  anguish,  moaned  softly,  "  How  long,  0  Lord !  how 
long  ?  "  One  said,  "  Why  did  they  not  hang  me  ere  they 
brought  me  here  ?  Hanging  would  soon  end,  but  this  will 
never  end."  Another  whispered,  and  her  hollow  eyes 
glared,  "  Oh  !  why  was  I  not  laid  on  a  funereal  pyre,  and  my 
body  given  to  the  winds  ?  'Twere  better  than  this."  And 
another  said,  "  Why  did  they  not  put  me  in  my  coffin  alive, 
for  then  my  sufferings  would  soon  have  ended ;  but  this 
goes  on  and  on,  like  a  great  revolving  wheel,  crushing  me 
at  every  turn." 

It  is,  indeed,  the  endlessness  of  imprisonment  that  adds 
the  last  dread  bitterness.  Penal  prisoners,  serving  their 
terms,  can  count  the  days,  and  feel  each  night  that  there 
is  one  less,  and  that,  if  they  endure,  freedom  lies  once  more 
before  them ;  but  prisoners  in  asylums,  consigned  and 
held  by  medical  advice,  have  no  such  hope.  They  are  life 
prisoners,  and  they  know  it.  Deep  into  their  hearts  sinks 


OR,   THE   CEADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  235 

tliis  terrible  consciousness ;  and,  "  forever,  forever,"  rings 
from  soul  to  soul  like  echoes  among  the  lost.  Is  it  wonder 
ful  that  they  shriek,  and  cry,  and  tear  their  hair?  Is  it 
strange  that  they  grow  haggard,  or  lifeless,  or  wild,  or  sink 
into  imbecility,  or  despair,  losing  beauty  and  life,  and  be 
coming  unfit  for  earth  or  heaven? 

Over  these  wretched  people,  attendants  like  Miss  Darius 
tyrannize.  Patients  have  no  privileges  under  such  attend 
ants.  They  cannot  even  call  their  clothes  their  own ;  but 
trunks  and  garments  are  taken  from  them  at  a  moment's 
notice. 

Miss  Darius  supplied  herself  with  delicacies,  by  eating 
what  was  sent  to  the  patients  from  their  homes.  Said  a 
gentleman  one  day,  taking  Miss  Darius  one  side,  "  Here 
are  some  oranges,  figs,  and  bottles  of  wine,  for  my  wife. 
She  is  a  very  generous  woman  ;  and,  if  I  leave  them  with 
her,  I  fear  she  will  give  them  away.  I  want  she  should 
eat  them  herself.  Will  you  take  charge  of  them,  and  see 
that  she  has  them,  a  few  at  a  time  ?  " 

Miss  Darius  simpered,  "Ye-e-s."  She  had  a  very  soft 
way  of  speaking  to  visitors.  The  gentleman  went  away 
thinking  how  pleasant  she  was  !  That  night  Miss  Darius 
handed  an  orange  to  the  lady  ;  the  next  morning  she  gave 
her  a  fig ;  two  days  after  she  gave  her  a  small  glass  of 
wine. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  lady.  "  How  nice  it  is  !  Where  did 
you  get  it  ?  " 

"Your  husband  left  it,"  Miss  Darius  replied.  She  felt 
"  gracious  "  at  the  moment.  Her  own  mouth  was  fragrant 
with  the  nectar.  For  three  days  she  continued  to  supply 
herself  and  the  patient ;  then  the  patient's  allowance  was 
withholden. 

"  I  would  thank  you  for  another  glass  of  the  wine,"  said 
the  lady  a  few  days  after. 


236  BELLA ; 

"  There  is  no  more,"  said  Miss  Darius  curtly. 

"I  will  take  an  orange,  then." 

"  They  are  gone." 

"A  fig,  then." 

"  I  tell  you  they  are  gone.  Did  you  think  your  things 
would  last  forever  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  why  my  hushand  left  so  small  quantities  ?  " 
the  lady  remarked,  and  then  went  to  her  room. 

"  I  wonder  where  Miss  Darius  expects  her  soul  will  go," 
whispered  a  woman  near.  "I  saw  her  carry  twelve  bottles 
of  wine,  more  than  three  dozen  of  oranges,  and  a  drum  of" 
figs,  to  her  room." 

It  was  true.  The  gentleman  was  no  niggard,  and  had 
supplied  his  wife  freely  with  these  nourishing  articles. 
Miss  Darius  sat  in  her  room,  and  regaled  herself  for  many 
long  days. 

Well,  —  that  patient  is  dead  now.  We  read  her  death 
in  the  papers.  "  Died  in  the  asylum  at ,  &c.,  &c." 

We  asked  ourselves,  "  Did  she  die  of  slow  starvation, 
prison  paralysis,  home-sickness,  or  heart-sickness  ?  When 
last  we  saw  her,  all  these  diseases  were  on  her. 

"  If  I  only  had  some  apples  !  "  said  an  old  colored  woman 
to  a  lady  visitor.  The  old  woman  was  for  many  years  a 
highly-valued  servant  of  this  lady,  who  had  now  come 
to  visit  her  in  her  misfortune. 

"  You  shall  have  them,"  said  the  lady.  "  I  will  send 
you  some." 

The  next  day  there  came  to  the  asylum. a  basket  of 
beautiful  rosy  apples,  labelled  with  .the  name  of  the  old 
colored  women. 

"  She  is  in  Miss  Darius's  hall,"  said  the  persons  in  the 
public  room.  A  passage-sweeper  took  the  basket.  A 
supervisor  joined  her.  They  carried  the  basket  to  Miss 
Darius.  Half  an  hour  later  the  old  colored  woman  saw 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  237 

several  attendants  eating  large  rosy  apples.  She  was  re 
minded  of  the  promise  of  her  mistress  ;  and  venturing  to 
Miss  Darius,  she  asked,  humbly,  "  Have  any  apples  come 
for  me  ?  " 

"  You  !  "  said  Miss  Darius,  staring.  "  Who  would  send 
apples  to  you  ?  " 

The  poor  old  eyes  drooped,  she  turned  away,  and  totter 
ed  to  her  chair,  and  sank  into  it,  murmuring,  "I  thought 
she  would  send  me  some.  She  used  to  be  good.  But  no 
body  cares  for  us  when  we  get  in  here." 

Sad,  sad,  is  the  fate  of. asylum  patients  !  Nowhere,  save 
in  these  corridors,  can  be  found  such  weird,  down-trodden 
women,  or  sad  and  hopeless  men,  sitting  stultified  in  these 
living  tombs,  while  outside  their  walls  the  free  sun  is  shin 
ing,  and  the  birds  are  carolling  their  songs,  and  animals 
run  each  in  their  own  natural  way. 

"  I  wish  I  was  that  rat,"  said  a  woman,  looking  through 
her  grates,  "for  then  I  should  be  free;"  and  her  face 
lengthened  into  a  soberness  that  settled  into  lines,  mark 
ing  hrfr  with  grim  despair. 

"  But,"  says  an  asylum  apologist,  "  all  patients  do  not 
feel  thus.  There  are  those  who  go  and  stay  awhile,  get 
better,  go  home  and  stay  a  few  weeks,  and  then  go  back ; 
going  back  and  forth,  willingly  and  pleasantly." 

We  grant  it.  There  are  such  women ;  but  the  asylum 
does  not  cure  them.  Asylum  doctors  do  not  touch  the 
causes  of  their  disease.  As  a  general  rule,  they  do  nothing 
for  their  patients  except  to  hold  them  as  prisoners.  If  they 
give  medicines,  it  is  chlora,  or  some  soporific  that  stupefies, 
from  which  patients  wake  more  miserable  than  before.  The 
real  disease  is  usually  untouched. 

Women  go  back  and  forth  uncured.  "  Willingly,"  it  is 
said.  Perhaps  so.  But  what  is  the  state  of  persons  who 
go  willingly  to  prison  ?  Ought  they  to  be  allowed  to  remain 


238  BELLA  ; 

in  such  an  apathetic  stupidity?  The  Lord  made  the  glad 
earth  for  the  uplifting  of  souls,  and  the  broad  sunlight  for 
their  healing.  He  made  no  prisons  for  men  ;  and  a  soul 
that  is  so  broken  as  to  live  contentedly  in  little  enclosed 
cells  is  the  very  soul  that  should  be  lifted  out,  and  held  be 
neath  the  smiles  of  God.  The  fresh,  glad  wilderness,  the 
sea  with  its  foam  and  bracing  air,  the  mountains,  the  val 
leys,  plains,  babbling  brooks,  limpid  lakelets,  and  broad 
rivers,  —  all  have  health  in  their  scenes,  and  nature  in  their 
beautiful  recesses.  Let  people  seek  health  by  Nature's 
rules,  and  they  will  find  it.  Let  them  have  Nature's  free 
dom.  Remove  artificial  rules  ;  give  free  rein  to  Nature  in 
her  purity,  not  in  her  perversions.  The  Creator  made 
people  for  freedom,  guided  only  by  his  pure  laws. 

What  the  theories  are  that  fill  volumes  of  works  on  in 
sanity,  we  do  not  know,  —  we  do  not  want  to  know ;  for 
theories  that  produce  such  results  should  be  studied  only  for 
the  purpose  of  exposing  their  fallacies. 

Insanity  should  not  be  treated  in  masses.  Each  individ 
ual  case  requires  its  own  individual  treatment.  Neither  in 
locked  cottages  nor  locked  halls  should  insane  people  be 
massed.  They  require  deep  scientific  treatment,  and  reme 
dies  that  reach  the  cause.  They  are  unhappy  together, 
some  in  cells,  some  pacing  the  halls,  and  all  feeling  that  a 
ban  rests  upon  them.  If  people  are  not  insane,  they  cer 
tainly  should  not  be  in  such  prisons ;  if  they  are  insane, 
they  need  the  natural  companionship  of  natural  persons  to 
keep  and  sustain  them  till  they  are  restored ;  and  such 
restoration  depends  on  remedies  applied  to  the  cause  of  the 
insanity,  and  not  to  the  insanity  itself.  This  is  a  disease 
that  touches  the  souls  of  men  and  women.  It  should  not 
be  the  subject  of  ridicule,  cruelty,  or  contempt ;  but  should 
be  skilfully  and  tenderly  removed  by  removing  the  cause, 
or  giving  the  sufferer  strength  to  bear  the  cause. 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  239 

"  If  it  were  not  for  hope,  the  heart  would  break.''  Bella 
most  certainly  realized  the  truth  of  that  adage  during  that 
winter  under  Miss  Darius.  She  counted  the  months,  she 
counted  the  weeks,  and  almost  counted  the  days,  before  the 
spring  opening;  and,  as  she  toiled  like  a  servant  for  her 
unthankful  mistress,  she  felt  to  say,  "  Every  day  is  one 
less ;  and  how  do  these  bear  who  have  no  brother  they  ex 
pect  ?  "  And  echo  answers,  How  ? 

Miss  Darius  had  no  faith  in  the  fulfilment  of  Bella's  ex 
pectations.  "  I  have  heard  patients  talk  before,"  she  said. 
"  They  are  always  expecting  to  go  ;  but  they  are  pretty  apt 
to  stay.  What  does  her  brother  want  of  her,  a  crazy,  love- 
smitten  thing  ?  He  only  talks ;  but  she'll  stay,  I'll  promise 
you." 

And  Miss  Darius  had  good  grounds  for  this  opinion,  if 
she  judged  by  her  experience  in  the  past,  and  by  her  obser 
vation  of  large  numbers  of  patients  left  there  by  friends  to 
linger.  But  Harry  Forresst  was  not  of  that  class  of  friends. 
His  promise  was  his  bond.  His  soul  was  truth.  All  winter 
he  bore  in  mind  that  prison  and  his  young  sister.  Every 
plan  was  governed  to  conform  to  his  pledge ;  and  when  the 
snows  softened,  and  the  ice  gave  way,  he  was  ready  to  go. 
He  shook  the  hard  hands  of  the  woodsmen,  exchanged  fare 
well  greetings,  and  felt  that  the  men  were  sincere  when 
they  said  they  were  sorry  they  should  "  see  his  face  no 
more."  He,  too,  was  sorry.  He  had  spent  many  genial 
evenings  by  their  wood-fires,  smoked  with  them,  read  their 
newspapers,  and  heard  their  evening  tales.  Pleasant 
memories  lingered  about  them ;  but  now  Bella  was  in  his 
heart,  the  Western  home  on  his  imagination,  and  the  Aroos- 
took  would  know  him  no  more.  He  steamed  to  Boston. 

Straightforward  in  his  actions,  he  went  from  the  boat  to 
Frederic,  and  plunged  into  business. 

"  I  say,  Fred,  I  am  going  West." 


210  BELLA  ; 

"Ah!" 

To  Mr.  Frederic  it  mattered  little  whether  Harry  was 
West  or  in  the  Aroostook.  Harry  was  "  a  rough  member 
of  the  Forresst  house,  who  made  money  fast  enough,  but 
whose  social  ideas  were  far  astray/'  Mr.  Frederic  often 
remarked. 

"  I  am  going  immediately,"  Harry  continued ;  "  and  I 
must  take  Bella." 

"  Ha ! " 

Mr.  Frederic  opened  his  eyes,  and  his  mustache  went  up 
ward.  -Harry  went  on,  "  Yes,  I  am  going  to  take  Bella. 
The  sooner  you  let  her  out  of  that  place  the  better.  I  want 
to  be  off." 

Frederic  looked  Harry  in  the  eyes,  and  said,  "  There  will 
be  two  words  to  that  bargain.  I  am  her  guardian  by  law." 

"  I  know  you  have  procured  that  situation  for  yourself; 
but  I  intend  to  give  her  to  another  guardian." 

"  Ha ! " 

Frederic  uttered  this  ejaculation,  and  then  coolly  turned 
to  some  figures  before  him,  as  if  to  say,  "  Why  talk  any 
more  ?  I  am  master  of  the  situation.  Go  away  ! " 

But  Harry  was  not  the  man  to  be  turned  away  from  his 
purpose.  He  spoke  again,  and  this  time  peremptorily. 

"  I  say,  Fred,  I  never  quarrelled  with  you  yet ;  but  if 
you  don't  let  Bella  out  of  that  place,  and  give  up  her  prop 
erty,  /  will  try  a  game  at  law.  I  will  ascertain  where 
justice  lies." 

"  Very  well,"  was  Frederic's  response.  "  The  law  has 
pronounced  the  girl  insane  ;  she  is  proved  so  by  the  certifi 
cates  of  two  physicians  ;  and  that  she  is  no  better  is  evident 
from  the  fact  that  they  have  had  to  put  her  in  lower  wards 
to  keep  her  in  subjection." 

Harry  Forresst  squared  his  shoulders,  his  head  set  itself 
upright  on.  his  firm  neck,  and  for  a  moment  astonishment 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  241 

held  him  silent.  Then,  in  a  low  and  solemn  tone,  he 
asked,  — 

"  Frederic,  are  you  a  devil  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  said  Mr.  Frederic,  "  you  can  call  me 
by  that  name  if  you  please  !  Your  own  humor  seems  of 
that  kind  to-day." 

"  It  will  be  of  that  kind  shortly,  I  fear,"  was  Harry's 
response.  "I  will  leave  you  now.  I  shall  see  you  this 
evening." 

Harry  turned  then,  and  walked  into  the  street.  He  felt 
that  he  needed  the  air.  He  would  have  liked  a  bath  in  the 
pine-woods  atmosphere,  that  he  might  cool  his  temper  with 
its  sweetness. 

Frederic  was  already  cool.  In  fact,  he  never  allowed 
'limself  to  be  heated.  He  was  quite  still  after  Harry  went 
vut,  and  considered.  At  first  he  was  buried  in  reverie ; 
then  thoughts  flashed  over  his  haughty  face,  and  then  they 
passed  away.  In  that  moment  his  decision  was  made,  his 
course  decided ;  and  when  he  went  home  to  his  fashionable 
dinner,  and  walked  up  the  street,  with  one  glove  off,  and 
his  small  cane  carelessly  swinging,  none  could  see  that  the 
destiny  of  a  human  being  hung  in  his  thoughts.  Some 
young  ladies,  meeting  him,  remarked  after  passing,  "  How 
superb  Mr.  Forresst  is !  He  grows  splendid  every  day." 

When  Harry  kept  his  appointment  that  evening,  he  was 
utterly  taken  aback.  Frederic  was  affable  and  polite  as  at 
a  dinner-party.  Before  Harry  could  speak,  Frederic  said, 
"I  have  considered,  my  brother;  and  as  you  are  resolved 
upon  entering  a  law-case  unless  I  yield,  why,  I  yield,  for 
the  credit  of  the  family.  I  will  send  Eunice  for  her  to 
morrow." 

"  I  will  go  myself,"  said  Harry. 

.  The  next  morning  saw  Harry  on  the  alert.  He  break 
fasted  early,  strode  to  the  depot,  and  was  off. 

21 


242  BELLA  ; 

What  a  day  that  was !  Miss  Darius's  white  eyes  stared 
with  astonishment  as  that  big,  bluff  man  came  through  her 
hall.  It  was  spring-time  ;  and  there  was  extra  cleaning. 
The  beds,  the  cells,  windows,  and  rough  old  paint,  were 
having  their  spring  scrubbing ;  and  Bella  had  been  assigned 
to  a  heavy  portion.  With  a  weary  feeling  she  had  dressed 
herself  in  a  scouring-suit,  and  was  down  on  her  knees  at 
the  mop-board,  in  obedience  to  Miss  Darius's  command. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  spring  had  done  every  duty  except  to 
open  the  Penobscot  ice ;  and  she  wondered  whether  that 
was  bound  by  the  satyrs  of  the  ice-king  as  closely  as  she 
was  bound  by  the  satyrs  of  the  prison-king.  Suddenly  her 
mistress  appeared  before  her. 

"  You  may  leave  this  work,  and  go  to  your  room.  You 
have  cornpan}'." 

"  Company  ?  " 

Down  went  the  cloth,  scrubbing-brush,  and  all  appurte 
nances.  Up  came  the  patient  from  her  knees.  Back  flew 
the  curls,  and  the  eyes  flashed.  She  had  no  time  to  think  / 
but  she  felt  that  it  was  Harry,  and  away  she  flew. 

"  That's  always  the  way,"  Miss  Darius  muttered.  "  Com 
pany  are  sure  to  come  when  we  don't  want  them.  He'll 
bother  round  as  much  as  an  hour,  I'll  warrant.  I  must 
get  work.  Oh,  I  know  !  There's  Mrs.  Murray !  I'll  make 
her  work  !  " 

"  I  am  thankful  for  Miss  Forresst,"  said  Mrs.  Murray, 
when  Miss  Darius  entered  her  room.  "  It  is  the  very 
brother  for  whom  she  has  been  looking.  She  will  go  home 
n  DW." 

"  Pshaw  !  no,  she  won't ;  and,  if  she  should,  it's  none  of 
your  business." 

"  I  have  a  right  to  be  thankful  for  her,  if  I  have  no  other 
right,"  meekly  said  the  woman,  as  she  arose  from  her  chair 
to  do  the  prison  cleaning. 


OE,  THE  CEADLE  OF  LIBEETY.  243 

Bella,  meantime,  had  gone  to  her  room,  — no  longer  a 
desolate  place,  for  a  noble  man  stood  in  it.  His  soul 
was  full  of  a  good  purpose  :  does  not  that  ennoble  any 
man? 

She  saw  him  face  to  face,  saw  him  smile ;  and,  closing  her 
door,  she  rushed  straight  into  his  arms;  and,  laying  her 
head  on  his  shoulder,  she  wept.  She  did  not  speak,  nor 
kiss  him,  nor  say  she  was  glad ;  but  she  sobbed,  and  her 
tears  wet  his  bushy  brown  beard.  He  lifted  up  her  face, 
and  looked  at  her  anxiously. 

"Why,  little  one,  what  is  the  matter?  I  thought  you 
would  be  glad  ?  " 

"  Glad,  Harry  ?     Am  I  not  glad  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  it.     I  thought  you  would  jump  for  joy  ?" 

"  I  will,  when  I  have  cried  enough.  I  must  cry  first, 
you  know." 

As  she  looked  up  then,  there  broke  through  her  tears, 
deep  smiles  ;  and  all  over  her  face,  bright  colors  seemed  to 
glow.  Harry  thought  of  a  rainbow  after  a  shower.  She 
^brushed  away  the  misty  drops,  the  smile  deepened,  her  eyes 
looked  up  with  their  old-time  hope,  and  then  he  felt  re-as 
sured.  He  began  to  understand  her.  A  bit  of  a  tear  came 
into  his  own  eye ;  but  he  brushed  it  away,  saying,  "  Con 
found  it,  Bella,  don't  make  a  man  weak ! " 

"  But,  Harry,  I  thought  I  should  drop  right  down  with 

joy." 

"  Drop  !  Why,  what  are  you  women  made  of?  Come 
now,  stand  up  like  a  man.  Be  yourself.  Make  ready,  and 
we'll  be  off.  I  have  bidden  farewell  to  the  Aroostook,  and 
am  going  out  to  marry  you  to  the  captain." 

The  words  were  like  an  electric  shock  to  her.  The 
thought  was  familiar;  but  the  words,  uttered  in  this  open 
way,  produced  a  re-action.  She  blushed.  Blushing  —  the 
most  natural  effect  of  such  a  remark  —  brought  nature  to 
her  aid.  She  looked  up  in  her  old  quick  manner. 


244  BELLA  ; 

"  Sit  down,  old  Harry,  and  I  will  pack  my  trunk." 

"  That's  it !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Now  you  are  Bella  again 
That's  jolly.  Go  ahead,  and  I  will  not  speak  of  the  captain 
again  for  full  five  minutes." 

She  obeyed  him  with  willing  hands,  working  rapidly  as 
in  a  dream  when  the  mind  rushes,  it  knows  not  how.  She 
had  been  expecting  this  event;  yet  now  that  it  had  come, 
she  could  scarce  believe  its  reality.  "  It  was  a  dream,  and 
yet,  not  all  a  dream." 

The  great  event  was  soon  known  through  the  hall. 
"Miss  Forresst  is  going,  —  going  home."  One  day  of 
true  happiness,  and  only  one,  does  the  asylum  patient  pris 
oner  know  :  that  is  the  day  of  release.  The  world  seems 
suddenly  larger.  The  air  is  more  wholesome,  life  puts  on 
new  bloom.  The  women  who  were  to  remain  gathered  in 
groups  as  if  their  whole  interest  centered  in  her.  "  Dear 
Miss  Forresst,"  said  one,  "  I  wish  I  had  a  letter  ready  for 
you  to  take  out.  You  could  mail  it  for  me." 

"  Why  cannot  I  write  for  you  after  I  am  away  ?  I  shall 
be  my  own  mistress  then,  you  know.  Nobody  can  control^ 
my  letters,"  and  Bella  smiled  triumphantly. 

"  Oh,  do  write,  do  !     I  shall  be  so  happy  !     Write  to  my 

Aunt  Ransom,  corner  of  Pine  and  Grosvenor  Streets,  L , 

Mass." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bella,  "  I  will  tell  her  what  you  suffer.  I 
will  tell  her  how  you  are  situated  ;  but  will  she  believe  me  ? 
Sometimes  it  seems  impossible  to  make  people  believe  even 
that  which  is  before  their  eyes,  with  reference  to  these  asy 
lums.  They  attend  only  to  that  which  the  head  ones  say." 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it ;  but  there  is  no  hope  for  me 
save  in  somebody's  letters ;  and  my  aunt  used  to  love  me." 

"  Will  you  write  for  me  too  ?  "  asked  another.  "  Write 
to  my  brother  at  Willimet  Centre,  Mass.  0  Miss  Forresst, 
how  happy  you  will  be!  But  you  will  not  forget  us  who 
are  left  behind,  will  you  ?  " 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  245 

"  Indeed  I  will  not,"  Bella  said  earnestly.  "  I  could  not 
forget  you  if  I  should  try  ;  and  I  shall  not  try." 

Bella  felt  her  heart  come  in  her  mouth,  as  she  looked 
upon  these  women,  and  considered  the  weary,  dreary 
months  that  lay  behind  them,  and  the  weariness  that  was 
yet  to  come. 

"  What  is  such  a  life  worth  ?  "  she  asked  herself. 

There  is  a  strange  contradiction  in  asylum  partings. 
Patients  rejoice  most  when  those  go  whom  they  love  most. 
Bella  knew  that  when  these  women  said,  "  We  are  so  glad 
you  are  going,"  it  was  because  they  loved  her ;  and  that 
she  herself  would  have  so  joyed  in  their  departure  that  she 
would  have  parted  with  every  one,  and  would  have  walked 
those  corridors  alone,  and  thanked  her  God  that  the  others 
were  free. 

When  she  was  dressed,  and  the  partings  were  over,  Harry 
drew  her  hand  within  his  arm.  Then  she  hesitated  a 
moment.  She  had  not  said  good-by  to  Miss  Darius. 
Should  she?  Could  she?  "No  — yes  — I  will.  Poor 
Miss  Darius !  It  is  not  her  fault  that  she  is  unkind  and 
cruel.  The  place  and  the  business  make  her  so." 

With  this  charitable  conclusion,  Bella  said  "  Good-by," 
then  walked  through  the  open  door,  heard  the  key  turn 
behind  her,  felt  that  for  her  entrance  it  would  no  more  un 
lock,  and  went  down  the  stairs,  thanking  her  God  and  her 
brother,  who  seemed  to  her  like  a  rock  of  salvation,  a 
present  help  in  time  of  trouble,  a  saviour  whom  God  had 
sent.  Harry  helped  her  into  a  carriage,  and  they  rode 
away.  She  grasped  his  hand,  and  looked  out  upon  the 
broad  landscape.  "  0  Harry  !  Isn't  '  out-of-doors '  larger 
than  it  used  to  be  ?  I  do  not  believe  I  shall  know  how  to 
behave,  I  have  been  shut  up  so  long." 

"  You  will  soon  find  out.     You  must  put  up  your  cour 
age,  and  make  ready  to  receive  Fred.     Do  not  let  him 
21* 


246  BELLA  ; 

think  he  has  cowed  you  down.     But  here  is  the  station." 
They  were  driving  to  the  depot. 

"Now  I  feel  free !"  she  said  as  she  sprang  from  the  car 
riage,  and  saw  the  waiting  train.  "  Farewell,  prison ! 
Come,  old  Harry." 

He  smiled  at  that  appellation.  He  himself  taught  it  to 
her  ere  she  could  scarce  lisp  it,  or  knew  its  meaning ;  and 
he  felt  young  again  as  she  uttered  it  with  her  old-time  joy- 
ousness.  He  helped  her  into  the  car,  and  took  a  seat 
beside  her.  It  would  be  hard  to  say  which  was  happier, 
he  in  protecting  her,  or  she  in  being  protected.  Thus 
beautifully  lias  the  Creator  harmonized  nature  between 
strength  and  weakness,  that  both  are  happy  in  their  appro 
priate  spheres. 

While  they  were  riding,  Harry  unfolded  his  plans. 
"  The  captain,"  he  said,  "  wants  his  father  and  mother  to 
go  on.  I  have  made  arrangements  for  them  to  go  with  us. 
They  are  two  lone  old  people,  with  only  their  one  boy  to 
love.  I  suppose  you  have  no  objections  to  their  going." 

11  No,  indeed!  I  shall  be  so  glad.  Dear  Mrs.  Beale,  I 
alwa3rs  loved  her." 

Then,  as  she  settled  back,  an  expression  of  ineffable 
gladness  stole  into  her  face.  Harry  watched  her  in  silence. 
Neither  spoke ;  but  the  bachelor  brother  mused,  "  It  is 
strange  what  this  is  that  comes  over  women !  There  is 
Mortimer  Beale  full  fifteen  hundred  miles  away;  yet  the 
thought  of  him  makes  her  face  shine  as  though  angels 
were  blessing  it.  Heigho !  I  wonder  how  a  man  feels 
when  a  woman  loves  him  so !  Well,  I  shall  never  know. 
I  never  had  a  knack  at  women." 

She  spoke  but  once  again  on  the  road.  Then  she  looked 
up,  and  said,  "  Is  it  really,  truly  true  that  I  am  going  ? 
I  hope  it  isn't  a  dream,  Harry." 

"  It  is  a  wide-awake  dream/'  he  answered. 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF   LIREttTY.  247 

They  steamed  on.  All  around  them  were  other  people, 
each  with  his  or  her  own  emotions,  interests,  and  loves ; 
aud  yet  they  two  were  alone.  Around  themselves  they 
carried  the  halo  of  their  own  mutual  love ;  and,  in 
the  midst  of  the  world  of  people,  they  were  alone. 
Alone,  yet  together,  we  all  are.  Souls  speak  to  souls ;  yet 
each  soul  has  its  own  organic  laws,  its  own  individuality. 
Each  is  alone. 

Of  all  the  crowd  in  the  station  that  day,  none  was  more 
manfully  strong  than  Harry  Forresst,  with  his  sister  under 
his  care ;  and  no  woman  walked  more  buoyantly  than  she, 
with  her  hand  on  his  solid  arm. 


248  BELLA 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

was  no  need  for  Bella  to  assume,  in  order  to 
show  Frederic  that  she  was  not  crushed.  Thanks 
^°  a  g°°d  constitution,  she  arose  from  her  sorrows, 
and  life  seemed  to  re-act.  She  entered  her  sister's 
comfortable  home  under  Harry's  protection ;.  and 
was  gathered  to  her  old  mother's  heart  in  one  long  em 
brace.  Harry  left  her  there  ;  and  went  down  to  Frederic. 

"  H'm,"  said  Frederic,  "  I  suppose  you  have  been  for 
her." 

"  Bella  is  now  with  mother,"  was  the  response.  "  She 
needs  new  clothes,  and  a  young  housekeeper's  outfit.  I 
have  come  to  you  for  a  check." 

"  Upon  my  honor !  How  much  do  you  calculate  it  will 
take  to  furnish  a  squatter's  cabin  ?  " 

Harry's  eyes  flashed,  even  with  Frederic's  own  sheen. 

"  It  will  take  the  whole  of  her  property  ;  and,  unless  you 
pass  it  over  immediately,  it  will  take  some  of  your  own  to 
pay  your  lawyer's  fees."  This  was  the  second  time  that 
Harry  had  threatened  him  with  law.  The  mustache 
twitched  with  an  ominous  jerk ;  and  he  drew  forth  a  check 
which  he  filled  as  Harry  dictated,  but  his  hand  had  a 
convulsive  movement  as  he  wrote.  It  was  not  the  amount 
of  money  that  convulsed  his  fingers,  as  he  signed  his  name : 
it  was  the  fact  that  he  was  overmastered.  When  Harry 
was  gone,  he  stood  and  mused. 

"  Upon   my  honor !      They   all   are  lunatics    together. 


OR,   THE    CRADLS    OF   LIBERTY.  249 

The  whole  family  ought  to  be  in  an  asylum.  Harry  threat 
ening  me  with  law  !  As  though  I  do  not  know  the  ground 
I  stand  on.  The  girl  is  insane.  I  have  proved  it ;  and 
that  she  is  no  better  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  twice  she 
went  to  lower  wards.  "Well,  I  bide  my  time." 

Then  Mr.  Frederic  settled  his  face ;  and  over  his  inward 
determination  his  habitual  blandness  fell  as  a  screen. 
What  he  thought  could  not  be  deciphered  then  by  what  he 
said  and  did. 

The  succeeding  days  were  full  of  new  life  to  Bella.  On 
Summer  Street,  on  Winter  Street,  up  and  down  Washing 
ton  Street,  crossing  and  recrossiug  she  went.  The  world 
was  beautiful  and  bright  again.  She  was  living  in  a  pres 
ent  of  happiness,  with  a  future  full  of  the  halo  of  promise. 
She  thought  sometimes  of  those  imprisoned  women  whom 
she  had  left,  and  who  had  no  brother  to  take  them  from 
their  galling  bondage ;  and  when  she  sat  at  her  sister's 
luxurious  table,  she  thought  of  them  trying  to  subsist  on 
their  pittances ;  and  often  she  said,  "If  people  only  could 
know  these  things !  Isn't  there  somebody  to  tell?" 

"It  seems  wrong  for  me  to  go  out  and  be  happy,  while 
they  are  all'  left  miserable,"  she  added;  "but  what  can  I 
do?" 

Mrs.  Boynton's  house  became  a  busy  scene.  She  opened 
her  heart  to  the  occasion;  and,  in. truth,  she  was  not  sorry 
that  Frederic  had  taken  this  turn.  Much  as  she  depre 
cated  Bella's  "  low  marriage,"  she  yet  thought  it  prefera 
ble  to  an  asylum.  "  That  seems  such  a  disgrace,"  was  her 
frequent  remark. 

The  most  marked  feature  in  Mrs.  Boynton's  house  at  this 
time  was  the  frequent  presence  and  cordial  civilities  of 
Mr.  Frederic.  His  magnificent  presence  illumined  every 
department.  The  dressmaking,  millinery,  and  household 
linen  all  passed  under  his  observation ;  and  he  seemed  to 
have  entirely  forgotten  his  animosity. 


250  BELLA ; 

"It  is  the  part  of  the  conquered  to  yield  gracefully,"  he 
remarked  to  Bella,  "  and  I  wish  to  show  you  that  I  can 
bear  defeat.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  visit  Nellie  on  your 
way  as  you  go  West  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  ?  Harry  has  no  time  to  stop  at  New 
York." 

"Allow  me  to  be  your  chevalier  to  Brooklyn.  Two  days 
precedence  of  Harry  will  give  you  time  to  visit  Nellie,  and 
also  to  look  about  the  Empire  City.  I  shall  be  most  happy 
to  show  you  about." 

Bella  looked  up  at  him  in  astonishment;  but  his  face 
was  as  calm  as  if  he  had  been  in  his  own  counting-room, 
completing  a  business  transaction.  He  saw  her  searching 
glances,  and  said,  "  You  are  surprised  at  my  offer ;  but  you 
see,  when  I  do  give  up  a  point,  I  do  it  thoroughly  and 
completely." 

It  seems  impossible  that  the  girl  could  have  believed 
him  sincere  in  this  offer ;  and,  in  order  to  show  that  she 
did  thoroughly  believe  him,  it  would  be  necessary  to  deline 
ate  the  characteristics  of  Frederic  Forresst,  and  to  depict 
the  perfect  control  that  he  possessed  over  his  fine  features. 
To  this  power,  much  of  his  business  success  was  due.  He 
could  utter  absolute  falsehoods  with  a  bland  and  honest 
expression  that  deceived  even  shrewd  men,  and  drew  from 
their  purses  thousands  that  went  into  his  own.  He  thor 
oughly  deceived  Bella  now.  She  thought  him  full  of  re 
grets  for  his  past  course ;  and  he  was,  but  they  were 
regrets  that  in  the  end  he  had  been  defeated.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  become  imbecile  to  allow  a  girl  to  "  get 
the  better  of  him,"  even  though  half  a  dozen  younger 
brothers  abetted  her. 

"  Am  I  not  the  eldest  of  my  father's  house  ?  "  he  asked 
himself.  "If  I  were  in  England  I  should  have  rights  as 
eldest ;  but,  upon  my  honor,  in  America  we  have  no 
rights." 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  251 

Mr.  Forresst  was  no  republican  at  heart,  though  he 
passed  outwardly  as  such.  In  fact,  no  one  had  ever  read 
him,  or  knew  exactly  what  he  was. 

But  when  Bella  mentioned  Frederic's  proposal  to  Harry, 
he  started,  and  said,  "  Ihe  deuce." 

"  Why,  Harry  !     Oughtn't  I  to  visit  Nellie  ?  " 

"  But  there  is  something  wrong  about  it.  How  came 
Fred  to  offer?" 

"  He  wants  to  show  me  courtesy  by  way  of  amends." 

"  H'm.  You  see,  Bella,  I  have  very  little  confidence  in 
this  show  of  acquiescence  he  is  making ;  but  then  I  don't 
care  whether  he  is  sincere  or  not,  as  long  as  I  can  keep  him 
harmless." 

"  But  what  harm  can  he  do  me  now  ?  I  am  free.  You 
have  my  money,  and  you  will  be  only  two  days  behind  me. 
I  can  meet  you  at  the  New- York  depot ;  and  I  do  think 
Frederic  is  sorry  for  what  he  has  done,  now  that  he  sees  it 
has  never  changed  me  ;  and  we  must  forgive." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  but  he  is  sorry  he  did  not  conquer  you  ; 
and  as  to  forgiving,  —  well,  let  him  go  to  God.  If  he  gets 
forgiveness  there,  I  shall  not  withhold  mine  ;  for  which  lat 
ter  Fred  cares  very  little,  I  fancy;"  and  honest  Harry 
shrugged  his  broad  shoulders.  "But,  as  I  have  not  the 
power  of  God  to  read  his  heart,  I  cannot  know  whether  he 
is  sincere,  and  I  cannot  trust  him." 

Frederic,  in  his  home,  thought  that  Harry  would  say  this ; 
and  he  came  again  to  his  sister's  house.  With  consummate 
tact  he  repeated  his  proposal  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
family,  and,  to  prove  his  sincerity,  offered  to  take  his  mother 
along  as  guard. 

"  It  would  do  mother  good  to  visit  Nellie,"  he  said,  "  and, 
upon  my  honor,  Bella  ought  to  go  there ;  and  now  that  I 
have  given  in,  and  am  conquered,  I  want  to  show  how 
I  bear  it." 


252  BELLA  ; 

All  but  Harry  acquiesced.  He  looked  at  Frederic,  and 
said  keenly,  "  If  you  play  me  false  in  this  thing,  you  shall 
rue  the  day." 

Frederic  smiled,  and  tapped  his  boot  with  his  ivory  cane. 
Harry  afterwards  said  to  Bella,  "I  have  no  faith  in  him ;  but, 
if  we  can  avoid  another  rupture,  we  will.  Mother  will  be 
with  you  to  New  York :  you  will  meet  me  at  the  station 
there.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beale  will  be  with  me,  and  we  will 
be  off." 

It  was  on  a  lovely,  balmy  day,  toward  the  even-tide,  when 
the  broad  street  seemed  quiet  as  a  country  road,  and  the 
salt-water  breezes  came  over  Brooklyn  in  ocean  fragrance, 
that  Bella  stood  on  the  steps  of  an  elegant  house,  bidding 
her  sister  her  last  adieux.  Nature  was  wearing  her  gor 
geous  spring  robe.  The  air  was  full  of  life  and  love.  The 
tiniest  hum  seemed  of  peace.  The  grand  houses  stood 
around  in  spring-time  freshness  and  quiet.  Far  away  the 
ships  studded  the  sea,  and  the  sailors  enjoyed  the  bright, 
warm  day.  On  land,  grand  carriages  rolled  ;  and  the  occu 
pants,  enrobed  in  luxury,  inhaled  the  aromatic  air  without 
a  thought  of  suffering  in  such  a  beautiful  world.  A  police 
man,  standing  near,  found -no  occupation,  and  idly  gazed 
at  th'e  carriage  drawn  up  before  Dr.  Bergmann's  house. 
Bella  threw  her  arms  about  her  sister's  neck,  and  gave  her 
a  long  embrace. 

"  I  have  had  a  charming  visit,"  she  said;  and  smiles  rip 
pled  over  her  happy  face.  She  kissed  her  sister  and  mother  ; 
and  then,  stooping,  she  kissed  a  German-looking  child,  and 
tripped  lightly  down  the  walk.  Frederic  stood  at  the  car 
riage-door.  She  entered,  and  waved  her  last  farewell  as 
the  carriage  rolled  away.  Frederic  sat  on  the  soat  opposite 
her.  His  face  wore  its  blandest  smile ;  and  she  thought 
how  handsome  he  was,  and  how  proud  she  could  be  of  him 


OK,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  253 

as  her  brother.  His  hardness  towards  her  was  forgotten  and 
forgiven.  At  that  moment  every  thing  was  forgiven.  She 
was  too  happy  to  cherish  resentment.  She  forgot  the  un 
happy  past,  and  thought  only  of  what  was  to  come.  She 
•was  now  on  her  way  to  meet  Harry  at  the  cars  that  were 
to  bear  her  to  her  home  whither  her  heart  had  long  since 
been  borne. 

Steadily  forward  they  went.  The  sleek  horses  obeyed 
the  impulse  of  the  driver,  and  they  soon  left  the  quiet  of 
Brooklyn  behind.  The  scenes  changed.  They  entered 
the  thronging  city,  went  up  into  the  busy  thoroughfares 
where  men  trade  for  souls,  and  women  walk  in  pride,  meas 
uring  each  other  by  gold.  Frederic  was  silent.  Not  even 
the  ends  of  the  mustache  stirred,  and  Bella  watched  the 
multitudes. 

Suddenly  the  carriage  stopped.  Another  carriage  stood 
waiting.  Frederic  said,  "  All  right,"  and  the  driver  leaped 
to  the  pavement.  Frederic  pushed  open  the  carriage-door. 
The  door  of  the  other  carriage  was  already  open.  Bella 
looked  on  with  surprise. 

"  What ! "  she  exclaimed.     "  Are  we  to  get  out  here  ?  " 

"I  must  leave  you  here,"  he  answered,  with  unwonted 
suavity.  "  I  have  some  business  engagements.  These 
gentlemen  will  see  you  to  the  cars.  Keep  up  good  "heart, 
whatever  comes." 

He  drew  out  his  watch,  glanced  at  it,  and  added  quickly. 
"  Upon  my  honor !  I  have  need  to  hasten." 

A  chill  went  through  the  soul  of  the  girl  as  she  left  her 
carriage,  and  entered  the  other  carriage  with  the  two  strange 
men.  She  looked  wistfully  at  Frederic.  He  was  her 
brother,  and  she  was  going  far  away.  She  might  not  see 
him  again.  "Forgive  me,  Frederic,"  she  said,  "I  have 
sometimes  thought  hard  of  you." 

22 


254  BELLA  ; 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,"  he  responded.  "  Some  time  you 
will  be  brought  to  reason,  I  hope." 

Then  he  turned  away.  The  men  had  transferred  her 
trunks.  One  of  them  sprang  into  the  carriage,  the  other 
went  up  with  the  driver.  The  two  carriages  parted,  even 
as  we  often  part  to  meet  on  earth  no  more.  Bella  felt  a 
pang,  but  it  was  quickly  followed  by  a  gush  of  relief.  She 
thought  of  Harry,  and  how  he  would  be  relieved  at  finding 
Frederic  gone.  "  There  will  be  no  danger  at  the  station 
now,"  was  her  silent  thought.  "  Frederic  will  not  be  there 
to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beale,  and  we  shall  have  every  thing 
as  Harry  has  planned.  Dear  old  Harry  !  He  is  waiting 
for  me  now !  A  few  minutes  more,  and  I  shall  be  with  him, 
on  my  way  to  "  —  happiness,  she  was  about  to  add  ;  but 
something  in  the  street  attracted  her.  Looking  out  from 
the  carriage,  she  watched  the  people  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
and  her  soul  filled  with  a  quiet  such  as  a  tempest-tossed 
mariner  might  feel  as  the  shores  of  his  haven  came  in  view. 

And  Frederic  rode  away  to  his  business  with  a  manner 
composed  as  of  one  who  had  accomplished  an  important 
purpose.  He  had  no  misgivings ;  but  said  in  his  heart, 
"Upon  my  honor,  what  else  can  I  do?  Shall  I  see  her 
throw  herself  away  ?  She  might  have  married  into  the 
highest  family  of  the  land,  and  she  would  have  adorned  the 
sphere.  Can  I  see  her  wilfully  throw  herself  away  on  a 
Beale  ?  Never;  and,  if  Harry  had  the  sense  of  his  family's 
dignity,  he  would  not  be  led  around  by  the  folly  of  a  girl. 
Pity  he  hadn't  married,  and  had  a  woman  of  his  own  to 
attend  to.  Then  he  wouldn't  be  so  susceptible  to  whimper 
ing  tears.  As  to  Edward  —  well,  the  truth  is  —  I  mean  no 
aspersion  on  my  parents — but  Edward  and  Bella,  the  chil 
dren  of  old  age,  were  spoiled  by  petting.  Well,  I  must 
do  what  I  can  with  such  refractory  young  people.  And 
now  for  business.  I  may  as  well  make  the  best  of  my  trip, 
now  that  I  am  here.  Let  me  see." 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  255 

He  took  from  his  pocket  an  ivory  memorandum,  and 
glanced  at  the  leaves,  then  drew  the  coachman's  string. 
"  To  No.  —  Broadway." 

Yes,  Harry  was  waiting.  He  stood  on'  the  platform  be 
side  the  long  Western  train.  Hurry  and  bustle  were  all 
around  him  ;  but  he  was  cool  and  calm.  One  thumb  was 
in  his  vest  armhole,  one  foot  akimbo,  and  he  seemed  as 
carelessly  at  ease  as  a  clear  conscience  and  firm  health 
could  put  a  man.  The  two  old  people  were  snugly  placed 
on  a  seat  where  no  window  could  betray  them,  and  Harry 
felt  like  a  sentry  whose  charge  was  safe.  He  watched  the 
carriages  drive  down,  watched  each  fresh  arrival,  and  grew 
impatient.  He  whistled,  consulted  his  watch,  placed  his 
other  foot  akimbo,  then  stood  on  both  feet  square,  put  up 
his  watch,  and  drew  a  long  breath.  He  heard  the  signals 
of  the  approaching  start;  saw  people  hurrying  in;  saw 
baggage-men  hurling  the  big  trunks;  heard  some  speaking 
in  haste  ;  and  pulling  off  his  hat,  he  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  his  brow.  But  no  Bella  came. 

"  The  deuce  ! "  he  ejaculated,  jamming  his  hat  on,  and 
stepping  forward  to  scan  the  carriages  once  more. 

"  Yes;  there  they  come,  at  last.  Thank  God!  No:  it 
is  not  they.  It  is  an  old  man  with  two  young  girls.  Great 
heavens !  Don't  they  know  the  time  ?  Will  they  miss 
the  train  ?  " 

He  broke  into  increased,  perspiration.  The  cars  were 
beginning  to  tremble.  The  passengers  were  in.  The  plat 
form  was  deserted.  Preparations  were  complete.  Steam 
was  ready,  but  no  Bella.  "  Good  God  I "  he  ejaculated. 
"  Where  is  she  ?  Are  they  all  stark  mad?  " 

The  train  began  to  glide.  He  saw  it  with  one  eye  cast 
backward  ;  and  those  old  people  were  on  it.  What  should 
he  do  ?  What  could  he  do  ? 


256  BELLA ; 

"Great  heavens!"  he  muttered  breathlessly.  "What 
—  shall  — I  do?" 

The  train  still  moved.  Car  after  car  glided  on.  He  gave 
one  searching  glance  through  the  streets.  No  carriage  com 
ing.  Nothing  like  Bella  to  be  seen.  The  cars  were  going. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beale  were  in  them.  He  whirled,  flew,  his 
coat  flew  after  him,  —  but  he  did  it.  He  reached  the  train, 
caught  the  last  rail  of  the  last  car,  and  stumbled  on  to  the 
last  step.  He  was  safe,  except  a  bruise  on  the  hand  by 
which  he  swung.  A  man  helped  him  up  with  a  reproving 
-caution.  "Risky  business,  that,  sir.  You  should  be  more 
careful."  Harry  made  a  slight  reply,  then  straightened 
himself,  and  pressed  through  from  car  to  car.  He  found 
the  old  people  in  a  fever  of  anxiety.  They  calmed  at  his 
approach,  but  trembled  again  at  his  tale. 

"  We  cannot  go,"  said  Mrs.  Beale  decidedly.  "  We 
must  get  out,  and  wait  for  another  train."  She  arose  as  she 
spoke. 

Mr.  Beale  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm.  "  Sit  down, 
mother.  We  must  go.  Don't  make  yourself  conspicuous. 
Don't  you  see  the  cars  are  moving  ?  " 

"  But  they  haven't  gone  far." 

"  What  of  that  ?  We  are  in  them,  and  we  cannot  get 
out." 

"  True  —  true,  "  she  murmured,  and  sat  down  with  a 
blankness  in  her  face.  "  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

Harry  mused,  and  then  said,  "  There  is  only  one  way. 
At  the  first  town  where  there  is  a  hotel,  I  must  leave  you 
while  I  go  back.  Of  course  we  cannot  go  without  Bella." 

And  thus,  in  the  midst  of  anxiety,  they  steamed  on,  with 
the  great  train  thundering  in  their  ears. 

"  I  won't !  I  won't !  I  won't !  I  will  never  step  my  foot  in 
there  as  long  as  I  live  !  I  never  will !  Let  me  alone  ! 


OR,   THE  CEADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  257 

Let  me  alone  !  Let  me  alone,  I  say  ! "  and,  as  the  speaker 
ejaculated,  she  struck  her  hands  out  wildly  each  side  of 
her.  The  two  men  who  had  her  stepped  back.  Another 
came  forward.  He  was  a  stranger.  His  hair  was  combed 
lightly  up,  his  forehead  was  broad  and  serene,  his  counte 
nance  pleasant  and  fair,  and  his  manner  genial.  He  was 
a  gentleman,  a  true-hearted  gentleman.  It  pained  him  to 
see  a  beautiful  young  lady  in  such  excitement.  He  extended 
his  hand  gently.  His  smile  was  winning,  his  voice  pleas 
ant. 

"My  dear  young  lady,  do  not  be  agitated.  We  will  not 
hurt  you.'' 

She  struck  his  hand,  and  turned  away. 

"  Take  me  back  ! "  she  said  to  the  two  men.  "  Take  me 
back,  or  I  will  walk  back." 

But  at  her  first  step,  the  pleasant  gentleman  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  wrist.  The  grasp  was  gentle,  but  firm.  It 
held  her  like  a  vice.  Then  he  motioned  the  two  men. 

"  Bring  her  trunks  right  in.  We  will  take  care  of 
her.  She  will  be  all  right  soon." 

Then  he  took  her  hand,  and  started  forward.  She  jerked 
away,  and  turned  upon  him. 

"  I  will  not  go  in  !  I  say  I  will  not  go  in !  It  is  an  asy 
lum  !  I  know  it  is  !  I  will  never  go  in  ! " 

"  Beckon  she  has  seen  such  places  before,"  said  one  of 
the  men  who  had  brought  her.  "She  has  been  raving 
ever  since  we  took  the  cars.  She  was  peaceable  enough  till 
then.  Then  she  began  to  rave  that  we  were  wrong,  and  to 
talk  about  her  brother  whom  she  was  going  to  meet.  But, 
you  see,  it  was  her  brother  whom  we  took  her  from ; 
and  "  — 

"It  is  an  other  brother,"  interposed  the  girl,  turning  upon 
her  jailers.  "  Haven't  I  more  than  one  brother  ?  " 

"  There,  my  dear,  do  not  talk,"  said  the   pleasant-faced 
22* 


258  BELLA  ; 

gentleman.  "These  men  are  going  away,  and  then  you 
shall  tell  us  all  about  it.  We  would  like  to  know  about 
your  brothers." 

"  My  brothers,"  the  girl  repeated  slowly,  and  emphati 
cally  :  "  I  have  one  who  is  killing  me." 

"No,  my  dear  young  lady..  You  are  mistaken.  Nobody 
wants  to  harm  you." 

He  bowed  a  farewell  to  the  two  men,  and  once  more 
attempted  to  lead  her  in  ;  but  she  jerked  from  him  like  a 
lightning  flash,  and  leaped  for  the  door.  Alas  !  The  man 
was  not  alone,  and  there  was  no  escape  for  her.  Another 
man  rushed  forward,  intercepted  her,  and  held  her  till  his 
superior  reached  her  again.  The  superior  spoke  more 
sternly  now,  and  his  pleasant  face  darkened  with  decision. 
"Miss  Forresst,  you  must  submit  yourself  quietly.  Do 
not  compel  us  to  use  force." 

"  I  will  never  go  in  there,  never,  never  ! "  she  said  firmly. 
"I  have  been  cruelly  treated,  basely  brought  here.  It  is  a 
house  of  torture.  It  is  a  house  of  death.  I  will  never  step 
a  foot  within  its  halls,  never,  never!  " 

A  third  person  now  appeared.  She  was  a  woman  of 
mature  age.  Well  dressed  she  was,  tall,  straight,  and  firm; 
and  a  woman  who  never  failed  in  an  emergency. 

"Miss  Partridge,"  said  the  leading  gentleman,  "you  are 
just  the  person  I  need." 

Bella  saw  her  coming,  and  raised  a  piercing  scream.  "I 
know  what  you  are,"  she  cried.  "  I  see  your  keys.  You 
are  the  supervisor  of  an  asylum.  Go  away  from  me  !  Go 
away  from  me  !  0  Frederic,  Frederic  !  what  have  you  done 
tome?" 

They  carried  her  to  a  settee;  they  brought  in  her  trunks, 
and  set  them  down.  Then  she  bounded  from  her  seat,  and 
started  forward  wildly.  , 

"  Where  are  those  men  ?     They  must  take  me   back.     I 


OR,   THE  CRADLE   OP  LIBERTY.  259 

must  go  to  Harry.  I  must,  must  go.  What  will  Harry 
think?  What  will  he  do?  0  Harry,  Harry!  Frederic 
will  kill  me." 

"  We  had  better  take  her  up  stairs,"  said  the  pleasant 
gentleman.  Miss  Partridge  called  him  "  Dr.  Gracio,"  and 
assented  to  his  suggestion. 

They  took  hold  of  Bella's  hands  gently  but  firmly.  She 
jerked  again,  but  there  was  no  escape.  Then  she  stood 
upright,  and  assumed  the  dignity  of  a  princess.  Her  eyes 
flashed  till  the  very  sparks  emitted  seemed  royal  fire.  It 
was  the  latent,  ancestral  fire  of  the  -ancient  English  Mon 
tagues  ;  but  these  people  knew  it  not.  They  thought  it 
insanity. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Miss  Partridge,  "  this  business  is  not 
proper  for  you.  Send  for  Moreton." 

Then  Moreton  came,  a  stout:  sandy-whiskered  man,  the 
supervisor  of  the  men's  department.  Tender  Dr.  Gracio 
stepped  one  side.  He  never  liked  to  see  the  hard  side  of 
his  institution.  Every  thing  must  be  pleasant  around  him. 
He  retired  to  his  own  room,  and  his  emissaries  took  up 
the  work.  They  carried  her  up  the  winding  stairs,  they 
"  led  her  to  the  den."  They  laid  her  on  the  narrow  bed. 
Then  Moreton  went  out,  and  Miss  Partridge  removed  the 
beautiful  hat,  the  gloves,  and  other  outer  attire.  Bella 
wept.  Great  gushing  tears  poured  from  her  eyes.  This 
was  well.  Without  those  tears,  she  would  have  been  what 
they  pretended  she  now  was.  Ah,  blessed  Nature  !  Is 
not  she  her  own  best  restorative  ?  Weeping  saved  her 
from  madness ;  and  when  her  tears  had  assuaged  the  heat 
of  her  excited  system,  and  she  lay  calm,  Dr.  Gracio  came 
up  to  see  her. 

"  I  am  very  anxious  for  her,"  the  doctor  said  to  Miss 
Partridge.  "  Her  brother's  letter  described  her  case  feel 
ingly.  She  has  an  hallucination  that  she  is  going  to  be 


260  BELLA  ; 

married,  and  has  even  left  home  prepared  for  her  bridal. 
Of  course  her  friends  are  greatly  pained." 

"She  has  been  in  an  asylum  before,  I  judge,"  said 
Miss  Partridge. 

"  She  has  just  escaped  from  one.  Her  hallucination  is 
of  long  standing.  If  we  could  banish  it  from  her  mind, 
and  restore  her  to  herself,  it  would  be  quite  an  addition  to 
our  fame." 

Bella  watched  them  speaking.  When  they  were  done, 
she  raised  herself  and  said,  "  I  wish  you  would  let  me  tell 
you  how  it  is."  Dr.  Gracio  smiled  approvingly  ;  and,  sit 
ting  there,  she  told  him  her  history,  briefly  but  truly,  end 
ing  with  her  appointment  to  meet  Harry.  "  And  now," 
she  added  beseechingly,  "I  do  wish  you  would  let  me  go 
back  to  New  York.  What  will  Harry  think  ?  " 

"  But,  my  dear,  you  could  not  find  Harry  now.  He  must 
be  gone  ere  this." 

"  No,  Harry  is  not  gone.  He  would  not  go  without  me. 
He  is  somewhere  looking  for  me.  He  does  not  know  where 
to  find  me." 

"Yes,  my  dear,  he  knows.  Your  friends  know  where 
you  are." 

"  Harry  does  not  know.  It  is  Harry  I  want.  Do  help 
me  find  him.  Do  let  me  go  out  of  this  place.  Oh,  these 
cruel,  cruel  prisons  !  " 

Dr  Gracio  stepped  gently  forward,  and  laid  his  fingers 
on  her  pulse.  The  beats  were  quick  and  feverish.  He 
turned  to  Miss  Partridge.  "  Do  the  best  you  can.  I  will 
send  up  an  opiate." 

He  went  out,  and  Bella  raised  her  eyes  imploringly.  "  I 
do  not  want  an  opiate.  I  want  to  go  free.  Do  tell  the 
doctor  to  give  me  my  freedom.  Nothing  else  will  do  me 
any  good." 

"  By  and  by  we  will  see  about  it.     Keep  calm  now,  my 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  261 

dear  young  lady.  Do  not  distress  yourself.  We  will  do 
every  thing  for  you  that  lies  in  our  power." 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  do  anything  forme.  I  know 
what  I  want.  Nothing  that  you  can  do  will  be  of  the  least 
use,  as  long  as  you  keep  me  here." 

But  what  did  her  entreaties  avail  ?  Only  to  be  met  with 
smiles  and  gentle  persuasions,  and  in  the  end  a  quieting 
potion.  She  fell  into  sleep.  The  powerful  opiate  laid  her 
physical  frame  in  'slumber,  and  her  soul  was  obliged  to  rest ; 
but  when  she  awoke  she  was  still  more  distressed,  for  time 
was  passing,  and  every  added  moment  seemed  an  age 
separating  her  farther  and  farther  from  her  goal.  Three 
days  passed.  Three  days  of  hopeless  waiting,  walking, 
watching,  thinking,  longing. 

She  was  treated  here  as  a  private  patient,  but  she  was 
none  the  less  a  prisoner.  Mr.  Frederic  had  forwarded  to 
Dr.  Gracio  a  check  for  heavy  advance  payment,  with  direc 
tions  to  draw  upon  him  for  any  amount  necessary,  and  a 
request  that  his  sister  should  receive  every  available  luxury. 
Frederic  had  tried  hospital  roughness  as  a  cure  for  her  ob 
stinacy  ;  now  he  would  try  the  opposite  course ;  and 
smiling  Dr.  Gracio  complied  with  his  request.  He  liked 
patients  backed  by  men  with  big  purses  and  generous 
minds.  A  few  such  inmates  were  worth  halls  full  of  the 
other  class.  He  began  his  work  vigorously.  He  gave 
Bella  ingress  to  his  own  family  circle,  kept  her  within  his 
own  well-furnished  apartments,  took  her  to  ride  in  his  own 
private  carriage,  and  his  wife  even  condescended  to  ride 
with  them.  They  rode  through  the  streets  of  the  town, 
and  skirted  its  most  pleasant  borders.  They  conversed 
upon  chosen  topics,  and  entertained  her  with  the  choicest 
bits  of  their  social  lives.  But  what  did  she  care  for  these  ? 
Even  while  they  were  talking,  her  heart  cried  in  secret 
agony,  cried  for  her  own,  for  freedom,  and  for  those  she 


2G2  BELLA  ; 

loved.  These  strangers  were  nothing  to  her.  She  did 
wish  they  would  let  her  alone.  She  might  have  lived 
thus  during  all  her  life  without  seeing  unkindness,  or 
hearing  any  thing  that  indicated  wretchedness  in  the 
buildings  about  her.  All  disagreeable  sights  were  kept 
from  her;  but  she  felt,  notwithstanding,  the  bands  of 
force,  and  even  in  all  this  kindness  she  saw  the  hidden 
elements  of  their  power. 

But  Dr.  Gracio  did  not  consider  himself  as  using  force. 
He  brought  in  every  appliance  of  kindness.  He  put  his 
patient  into  a  large,  well-furnished  chamber,  around  which 
there  was  no  appearance  of  prison  or  restraint.  The 
windows  were  natural  as  all  house-windows,  even  the  door 
was  not  locked.  Seeing  this,  Bella  said  to  herself,  "I 
will  watch  my  chance.  I  will  get  away."  But  however 
stealthily  she  left  the  room,  by  day  or  by  night,  slie  could 
not  get  beyond  the  passage  ;  for  there  sat  all  the  time  a 
guard,  a  special  attendant :  and  often  as  Bella  entered 
the  passage,  the  attendant  said,  "Do  you  wish  any  thing, 
Miss  Forresst  ? "  Receiving  a  negative  answer,  the  girl 
went  on.  "  Are  you  going  out  ?  I  will  go  with  you,  and 
guide  you  wherever  you  would  like  to  go." 

"  Guide  me  to  the  station,"  said  Bella. 

"  Certainly,  if  Dr.  Gracio  will  give  me  permission." 

The  girl  spoke  in  the  kindest  tones,  and  made  herself 
into  an  obsequious  servant ;  yet  she  was  a  prison-mistress, 
and  Bella  felt  it.  What  cared  she  to  walk  with  such  a 
guard  at  her  side  ?  What  was  all  this  kindness  but  barbed 
arrows. 

Dr.  Gracio  set  apart  servant  waiters  for  his  distinguished 
patient.  They  carried  food  to  her  from  his  own  table. 
Delicate  frostings,  rich  meats,  luscious  fruits,  and  sweet 
preserves  went  to  her  every  day  ;  and  her  body  was  nour 
ished  with  the  choicest  food.  It  was  indeed  a  blessing; 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF   LIBERTY.  263 

and  she  contrasted  it  with  the  food  in  her  former  asylum, 
.  and  said  to  herself,  "  If  we  could  live  by  bread  alone,  then 
surely  we  could  be  contented  here :  *but  we  cannot  live  by 
bread  alone ;  there  was  One  who  said  we  could  not.  We 
must  have  words  from  the  mouth  of  God,  and  those  words 
are  love  and  truth  and  peace.  I  cannot  find  them  here. 
These  people  are  kind,  wonderfully  kind ;  and  yet  my 
heart  will  break,  break  !  Where  is  Harry  ?  What  will  he 
think  ?  Can  he  ever  find  me  ?  Who  knows  where  I  am 
except  those  strange  men  and  Frederic  ?  And  Frederic 
will  not  tell.  The  strange  men  Harry  will  not  see.  How 
will  he  find  me  ?  I  will  write.  No :  I  cannot  write. 
With  all  their  kindness  they  would  not  let  me  mail  a 
letter.  No.  Crazy  people  must  not  write  unless  their 
letters  are  supervised,  because  they  worry  their  friends  by 
writing.  And,  under  cover  of  this  excuse,  all  sor^s  of  de 
ceptions  are  practiced,  and  cruelties  too.  I  wonder  if  there 
are  such  cruelties  here  as  I  used  to  see.  Dr.  Gracio  is  so 
kind,  would  he  permit  such  things?  And  Miss  Partridge 
is  an  intelligent  lady.  If  I  were  in  the  halls,  should  I  see 
her  do  as  I  have  seen  supervisors  do  ?  " 

For  an  answer  to  these  questions  we  must  not  look  in 
the  rooms  around  Bella.  We  must  follow  Miss  Partridge 
to  the  corridors  and  distant  halls,  where  she  is  a  different 
person.  She  is  not  a  woman  of  hasty  temper ;  but*  calm, 
precise,  and  disciplines  for  the  sole  purpose  of  obedience, 
with  a  cool  resolution  to  keep  order,  and  have  the  patients 
know  their  places.  Is  she  a  Christian  ?  She  thinks  she 
is.  Let  us  see  how  she  cured  Lucy  Brown  of  "  sauciness." 

Lucy  was  the  daughter  of  poor  but  virtuous  parents. 
She  had  been  disappointed  in  love ;  and  being  of  a  deli 
cate,  high-toned  temperament,  she  was  bewildered  after  it. 
Her  doctor  said  she  was  insane,  and  prescribed  an  asylum. 
Perhaps  she  was  insane.  Her  great  disappointment  may 


2G4  BELLA  ; 

have  overwhelmed  her  tender  mind,  and  caused  aberration. 
But,  in  all  his  pharmacopoeia,  had  he  no  restorative  but  this  ? 
To  a  mind  already  crushed  under  its  sorrow,  why  did  lu 
add  greater  sorrow,  putting  the  young  girl  where  there  was 
nothing  to  make  her  happy,  nothing  to  take  away  the 
poignancy  of  her  grief,  and  where  no  new  love  could  come 
to  soften  the  pain,  or  alleviate  memories  ? 

Lucy's  father  had  no  money  with  which  to  meet  the 
expenses  of  the  asylum;  but  the  doctor  told  him  that  was 
of  no  consequence.  The  State  provided  for  that.  Thus 
Lucy,  in  reward  for  her  virtue,  was  made  a  poor  patient. 
She  was  carried  to  the  asylum,  and  added  to  the  long  list 
whose  names  helped  swell  the  funds.  They  gave  her  a 
cot  two  feet  in  width.  During  the  day  it  was  packed 
away  in  a  cell ;  at  night  it  was  brought  out  into  the  hall, 
and  Lucy  slept  on  it.  She  had  no  room  to  herself,  nor 
even  a  drawer  for  her  clothes.  She  felt  like  one  in  punish 
ment.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  have  done  some 
wrong,  and  she  tried  to  recall  some  blot  or  stain  ;  but  her 
record  was  clear,  her  conscience  pure.  Then  she  felt  that 
her  situation  was  unjust.  Young  and  high-toned,  she 
could  not  submit  to  this  life,  and  to  the  caprices  of  the 
attendants.  She  could  not  believe  that  girls,  in  no  wise 
her  superior,  ought  to  order  her  from  day  to  day,  driving 
her  to, work  or  sit  still,  as  their  whims  seized  them.  She 
determined  she  would  not  submit,  and  answered  them 
back  with  words  as  high-spirited  as  their  own.  They 
appealed  to  Partridge  ;  and  she  undertook  to  "break  Lucy 
in."  She  put  her  in  a  chair,  and  bound  her  down  with  a 
leather  strap.  Two  attendants  assisted.  Then  they  pro 
cured  a  bucket  of  cold  water,  dipped  a  sheet  in  it,  and 
then  threw  the  wet  sheet  over  her  head,  gathering  the 
folds  behind  her  neck,  and  tightening  it  until  the  points 
of  her  features  showed  through  the  cloth.  Then  they 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  265 

seized  the  wet  folds  behind,  and  shook  her  with  force.  She 
shivered;  and  cold  chills  ran  from  her  head  to  her  feet. 

Then  Miss  Partridge  said,  "  There !  will  you  stop  be 
ing  saucy  now?"  Poor  Lucy  bowed  her  head.  She 
could  not  speak ;  but  they  understood  her  assent.  She 
was  released,  and  turned  again  under  the  attendants,  who 
tantalized  her  more  than  before.  She  hated  them  now, 
and  told  them  so.  This  time  Miss  Partridge  took  her 
away  to  a  blinded  room,  strapped  her  into  a  chair  again, 
and  fastened  the  chair  to  the  floor.  Then,  throwing  a 
shawl  over  her  shoulders,  she  left  her  there  all  the  day  and 
all  the  night.  Alone,  through  the  dark  hours,  she  sat 
there.  She  heard  the  night-winds  moan,  heard  the 
nightly  groans,  the  night-watch  tramp;  and  all  those  dark 
hours  she  sat  in  her  bound  chair.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
the  morning  would  never  dawn :  and  the  striking  of  the 
clocks,  at  one,  two,  three,  four,  were  so  many  knells.  Alas  ! 
they  were  knells.  They  struck  her  sensitive  system  with 
thrills  of  unearthly  dread.  She  grew  cold ;  but  her  hands 
were  tightly  bound.  The  shawl  slipped  from  her  shoul 
ders;  but  she  could  not  draw  it  up.  She  could  reach 
neither  blanket  nor  extra  garment.  While  the  world 
around  slept,  she  sat  thus  in  the  house  where  the  doctors 
had  put  her  for  cure.  What  shall  we  call  this  remedy  ? 
Does  science  or  Christianity  afford  a  name  ?  We  call 
those  murderers  who  kill  the  body  :  what  shall  we  call 
those  who  shut  up  minds,  and  let  them  slowly  die  ? 

To  Lucy  those  night  hours  in  that  lone  cell  were  fearful 
beyond  description ;  and  darkness  in  loneliness  had  a  mean 
ing  she  had  never  suspected.  Miss  Partridge  came  in  the 
morning ;  and  said  solemnly,  as  if  duty  laid  upon  her, 
"Now  do  you  think  you  can  be  obedient  to  your  attend 
ants,  and  stop  your  sauciness  ?  " 

Lucy  answered  faintly,  "  Yes."     She  was  released  then  ; 

23 


206  BELLA  ; 

and  Miss  Partridge  said,  (t  ^  think  she  is  conquered.  I 
have  known  women  to  sit  out  three  such  nights  before 
they  would  yield.  Some  are  subdued  at  two ;  and  some 
give  up  in  one." 

Miss  Partridge  was  correct.  Lucy  was  conquered.  She 
obeyed  the  slightest  word  of  the  attendants.  She  obeyed 
everybody.  She  never  again  had  a  will  of  her  own  ;  never 
again  had  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes,  nor  a  smile  on  her  cheeks ; 
never  expressed  a  want;  never  had  natural  sense.  She 
was  cured  of  sauciness. 

Dr.  Gracio,  tender-hearted  man,  never  saw  the  hard  acts 
of  his  institution.  He  said  to  his  officers,  "  Take  them 
away,  take  them  out  into  the  corridors ; "  and  he  liked  offi 
cers  who  were  self-reliant,  and  could  discipline  without  his 
aid.  For  this  reason  he  prized  Miss  Partridge  ;  and  for 
this  reason  he  also  prized  Moreton,  chief  supervisor  in  the 
men's  department.  Moreton  was  a  huge  man,  with  a  stolid 
face,  and  a  chin  deep-set  and  massive  jawed.  He  was  per 
fectly  self-reliant,  considered  himself  competent  to  man 
age  insane  people,  and  boasted  of  his  prowess  as  Miss 
Darius  did  of  hers.  He  was  experienced  in  the  business, 
and  liked  it. 

"  Shet  up  yer  head  !  "  said  Moreton  to  a  pale,  sickly  lad 
who  was  worrying  about  home.  "Blast  yer!  I'll  put  yer 
carcass  where  yer  can  groan  to  the  silent  walls ! "  AVith 
that  he  seized  the  boy,  and  dragged  him  by  the  heel  across 
the  hall,  one  hundred  and  eight  feet,  and  then  jammed 
him  into  a  cell.  The  floor  of  the  hall  was  full  of  splinters 
and  rough  slivers,  that  pricked  through  the  boy's  clothes, 
and  remained  sticking  in  his  shoulders;  but  what  of  that? 
It  was  but  a  source  of  amusement  to  Moreton,  who  laughed 
loudly  at  the  boy's  moans. 

"Take  that,  will  yer?  "  said  Moreton,  thrusting  his  fist 
into  a  man  who  was  attempting  to  pass  him  at  an  open  hall 


OR,  "THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  267 

door.  The  man  was  a  new  comer,  who  had  not  yet  learn 
ed  the  strict  prison  discipline,  and  seeing  the  door  open 
ed,  he  started  to  go  out.  "  And  that !  "  added  Moreton, 
a  second  time  planting  his  fist  in  the  stomach  of  the 
patient.  That  blow  laid  the  man  flat  on  his  back.  Then 
there  came  an  attendant,  and  helped  Moreton.  They 
pitched  the  poor  man  into  a  cell,  and  there  stamped  upon 
and  jammed  him  till  life  seemed  expiring.  Then  they  left 
him  there,  and  for  several  weeks  he  was  not  seen  again. 

Dr.  Gracio's  establishment  had  a  reputation  for  superior 
management,  and  Moreton  was  an  excellent  representative 
of  asylum  government.  Jeremiah  Hurd,  a  man  of  forty 
years,  had  been  promised  to  go  home,  but,  like  many  others, 
had  to  live  on  promises  (there  being  no  fulfilment),  and 
was  still  held  in  bonds.  He  grew  discouraged,  felt  that  the 
promises  would  never  be  kept,  that  he  should  never  go  out 
of  his  prison,  and  grew  still  more  discouraged.  Then  he 
took  the  prison-march  ;•  and,  as  he  walked  back  and  forth  on 
the  rough  floor,  splinters  of  the  boards  peeled  up,  and,  pier 
cing  through  the  soles  of  his  slippers,  entered  his  feet,  and 
remained  in  the  flesh  till  festering  sores  were  produced. 
These  increased  in  numbers  and  size,  till  they  spread  and 
joined  together.  His  feet  became  like  jelly,  and  began  to 
swell.  The  inflammation  increased,  growing  higher,  till  it 
reached  his  body.  Then  his  jaws  began  to  set,  no  food 
could  be  got  between  his  teeth,  he  grew  sick,  and  death 
drew  near,  so  very  near  that  the  attendants  even  grew 
alarmed.  Still  death  drew  on  :  nothing  now  could  save  the 
man  ;  and  the  doctor,  seeing  the  necessity,  sent  for  the  wife. 
She  came ;  but  every  moment  while  she  sat  by  her  dying 
husband,  Moreton  sat  there  also.  He  feared  the  wife 
might  turn  back  the  bed-clothes,  and  see  those  feet.  That 
night  Mr.  Hurd  died.  He  was  carried  from  the  asylum  in 
an  elegant  coffin,  provided  by  his  wife.  The  jellied  feet 


268  BELLA ; 

were  hidden  deep  within  it.  Thus  was  ended  the  man 
who  had  been  repeatedly  told  that  he  should  soon  go 
home.  One  patient,  holder  than  the  others,  asked  Dr. 
Gracio  why  he  did  not  let  Mr.  Hurd  go  home  when  he 
promised  him.  "  Because  he  was  a  stubborn  man,"  said 
the  doctor  ;  "  and  his  persistency  in  his  determination  to  go 
home  was  from  his  insanity." 

"It  is  very  curious,"  the  patient  responded.  "The  other 
day  I  asked  you  wherein  Chase  was  insane ;  and  you  said 
because  he  did  not  want  to  go  home.  You  said  that  ration 
al  persons  would  want  to  go  home." 

Dr.  Gracio's  pleasant  face  clouded.  He  turned  from  this 
patient.  By  what  right  should  a  patient  question  him  ? 

Moreton's  example,  as  supervisor,  was  contagious  among 
the  attendants.  There  was  a  Mr.  Hames  suffering  from 
physical  disease.  He  begged  for  medicine,  but  did  not  get 
it.  He  grew  worse,  and  begged  yet  more  earnestly.  But 
he  was  not  humble  and  suave  ;  for  he  was  a  man  of  natural 
independence,  and  could  not  brook  the  lordly  manners  of 
the  attendants.  He  reproved  them :  they  were  angry,  and 
would  give  him  neither  medicine,  nor  food  such  as  he 
could  eat.  Pie  failed,  grew  weaker,  and  sank  every  day. 
He  begged  for  something  better  to  eat,  or  for  milk 
to  drink  ;  but  nothing  was  given  him.  He  was  a  man  of 
property,  and  offered  to  pay  for  what  they  would  bring  him  ; 
but  they  would  not  stir,  and  he  lay  there  moaning  and 
groaning  with  pain,  and  with  piteous  cries  implored  them 
to  give  him  a  drink  of  milk.  They  called  his  cries 
"howling,"  and  let  him  moan.  He  became  exhausted, 
suffering  thus  from  day  to  day.  At  last  the  doctors  were 
alarmed,  and  came  to  him  with  offers  of  help.  He  said, 
"  Gentlemen,  you  are  too  late  !  I  am  dying  from  neglect." 
At  ten  o'clock  that  night,  the  attendants  covered  him  for 
the  last  time.  They  drew  up  the  bed-clothes,  and  turned 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  269 

away,  saying,  "Howl  now  if  you  want  to!"  Then  they 
went  out,  and  locked  the  door.  Mr.  Hames  was  left 
alone,  a  prisoner  at  the  mercy  of  his  keepers.  Nobody 
saw  him  again  till  morning.  No  one  knew  when  he  pass 
ed  away ;  but,  when  they  unlocked  his  cell  door  the  next 
morning,  he  was  cold  and  stiff.  He  could  beg  no  more  for 
medicine  or  milk,  he  could  "  howl "  no  more,  nor  would  he 
any  more  hear  the  harsh  voices  of  the  attendants. 

There  was  Mr.  Sharon,  who  was  the  particular  object  of 
Moreton's  experiments.  Mr.  Sharon  was  slightly  deranged, 
and  sometimes  talked  a  little  flightily.  Moreton  put 
him  down  in  a  lower  wing,  where  there  was  no  fire,  jacket 
ed  him,  and  held  him  there  in  the  cold  days  of  December, 
"  to  take  the  insanity  out  of  him."  He  sank  beneath  such 
hardships,  and  ran  still  lower.  His  hands  were  bound 
tight  in  the  jacket;  and  he  could  not  move  them,  even  to 
cover  himself  when  lying  in  his  bed  at  night.  If  the  bed 
clothes  slipped  down,  he  could  not  draw  them  up.  The 
weather  was  freezing  ;  he  had  neither  light  nor  fire  ;  and 
even  healthy  men  could  scarce  keep  warm  with  the  scant 
hospital  coverings.  Shivering  with  cold,  Mr.  Sharon,  still 
bound  in  the  jacket,  weak  and  trembling,  arose  and  paced 
the  floor.  The  death  angel  hovered  over  him,  and  was 
visible  on  his  face.  The  patients  saw  it ;  but  what  were 
they  ?  Who  heeded  their  opinions  ?  He  still  ran  down, 
fainting  daily  under  his  strait-jacket,  hunger,  and  the  terri 
ble  cold.  At  length  death  stared  out  from  every  linea 
ment.  The  attendants  could  no  longer  hide  it.  Even 
Moreton  saw  it,  and  Dr.  Gracio's  oily  words  could  no 
longer  smooth  the  rough  place.  Mr.  Sharon  was  then 
unbound,  carried  up  to  a  warmer  hall,  bottles  of  warm  water 
were  put  to  his  feet,  and  nourishing  drinks  were  brought 
him  ;  but  he  had  run  too  low  for  restoration,  his  chill? 
were  too  deep  for  warmth  to  remove.  They  telegraphed  to 

23 


270  BELLA  ; 

his  friends,  who  came  to  see  him  die.  Then  they  carried 
him  away,  and  the  sad  scene  was  ended. 

Charlie  Peabody  was  a  young  man  who  had  become 
insane.  Moreton  kept  him  also  in  that  cold  wing.  Dr. 
Gracio  and  Moreton  believed  in  scientific  classifying.  They 
put  the  insane  sick,  or  "worst  cases  "  as  they  called  them, 
down  into  the  lower  wards,  and  had  no  fire  for  them  there, 
nor  any  comforts,  holding  them  there  in  positions  of 
misery.  Charlie  grew  weak  and  feeble  and  more  insane. 
He  became  too  weak  to  walk  even  to  the  bathing-tub. 
Moreton  bade  him  go.  Charlie  said  he  could  not.  Then 
the  attendants  took  him  and  dragged  him  to  the  bath  ;  and, 
filling  the  tub  with  cold  water,  they  plunged  him  in. 
This  was  to  subdue  him.  He  chilled,  benumbed,  grew 
livid,  and  could  not  recover  from  the  shock.  The  next  day 
he  died.  Thus  another  victim  passed  away.  Another 
coffin  came  to  the  great  doors  of  the  asylum;  and  the 
patients,  looking  through  their  grated  windows,  saw  it. 
How  often  are  coffins  seen  at  those  doors ! 

But  there  is  a  worse  affliction  than  death,  and  it  fell 
upon  John  Gould.  Mr.  Gould  was  a  man  of  excellent 
character  and  sterling  principles.  He  was  sent  to  the 
asylum,  as  thousands  are,  by  his  doctor.  Mrs.  Gould  had 
said  anxiously,  "Is  it  a  good  place,  doctor?  Will  he  have 
kind  care  ?  " 

"The  best  possible,"  was  the  medical  reply.  "Dr. 
Gracio  has  not  his  superior  in  the  country." 

Two  years  had  passed,  and  Mr.  Gould  still  sat  beneath 
this  noted  physician's  care.  It  seemed  a  long  time.  His 
wife  and  family  came  to  see  him  occasionally,  but  were 
met  by  the  suave  words  of  Dr.  Gracio,  and  went  home, 
leaving  the  husband  and  father  still  there,  and  leaving, 
also,  liberal  sums  for  his  board  and  care.  Mr.  Gould  sat 
still,  and  felt  it  all.  He  read  also  the  scenes  that  passed 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  271 

around  him,  and  roused  at  last  to  a  belief  in  his  own 
rights. 

"  Doctor,"  said  he,"  as  Dr.  Gracio  was  passing  through 
the  hall,  "I  have  written  a  letter  to  my  wife,  and  sealed  it. 
Will  you  take  it,  and  mail  it  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!"  smiled  the  doctor;  and,  extending  his  hand, 
he  took  it,  and  passed  along. 

Days  lengthened  into  weeks,  and  no  answer  came.  Mr. 
Gould  grew  anxious.  He  had  his  suspicions,  and  de 
termined  to  inquire. 

"Doctor,"  said  he  when  next  he  saw  Dr.  Gracio,  "did 
you  send  my  letter?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  doctor,  hastening  on  through  the 
hall. 

"Where?"  called  Mr.  Gould. 

"  Into  the  fire  ;"  and  still  he  hurried  along. 

Mr.  Gould  had  not  expected  this  blunt  acknowledgment. 
He  was  accustomed  to  seeing  subterfuges  and  deceptions. 
But  here  was  an  open,  daring  acknowledgment  of  wrong. 
Mr.  Gould  was  an  upright  man,  who  scorned  such  usurpa 
tions.  He  sprang  after  Dr.  Gracio,  and  seized  him  by  the 
shoulder.  Then  he  looked  him  in  the  face,  and  said,  "  Are 
you  shameless  ?  Dare  you  say  that  you  have  burned  the 
letter  you  promised  to  send  to  my  wife  ?  " 

Almost  before  the  words  were  uttered,  two  attendants 
pounced  upon  Mr.  Gould.  They  bound  him  down,  they 
kicked  him,  jerked  him,  and  stamped  upon  him  with  their 
nailed  boots.  One  or  two  ribs  broke ;  but  what  of  that  ? 
They  took  him  to  a  cell,  laid  him  on  an  iron  bedstead,  and 
strapped  him  down,  arms,  body,  and  legs.  Shall  we  say 
how  long  he  lay  there  ?  The  patients  could  not  get  into 
his  room,  therefore  they  could  not  tell;  but  several  weeks 
passed  ere  he  was  again  seen  in  the  hall ;  and  then  what 
was  he  ?  A  wreck  of  humanity,  a  shadow  of  himself 


272  BELLA ; 

He  would  no  more  write  letters,  he  would  ask  no  more  for 
freedom.  His  life  henceforth  would  be  a  living  death. 

What  were  the  objectionable  words  that  the  inquisitive 
doctor  found  in  that  letter  ?  They  were  these  :  "  My 
dear  wife,  I  have  always  e'ndeavored  to  live  a  true  and 
godly  life ;  I  have  helped  you  rear  a  family  of  good  chil 
dren  ;  I  have  gathered  and  saved  enough  to  support  me  in 
my  old  age ;  and  now  to  be  thrown  into  prison,  to  subsist 
on  prison  rations,  and  spend  my  days  in  misery,  seems  hard. 
I  fear  you  are  deceived,"  and  so  on.  These  truths  cost  Mr. 
Gould  his  reason,  which  is  more  than  life. 

However  many  grow  chronic  or  die  within  these  walls, 
no  blame  is  ever  attached  to  the  institutions.  The  doctors 
count  up  the  cures,  so-called,  and  publish  them  exaggerated  : 
the  chronic  and  dying  are  of  small  account,  lleformed 
drunken  men*  help  greatly  in  increasing  the  numbers  of 
cures.  Sometimes  one  man  is  cured  four  times  in  a  year. 
He  stays  a  while,  is  pronounced  cured,  goes  out,  drinks 
again,  is  re-committed,  and  so  continues.  Every  discharge 
is  recorded  as  a  cure.  Some  people  are  cured,  or  roused 
from  mental  illness,  by  the  antagonistic  effects  of  the  sur 
roundings.  The  injustices  they  see  and  hear  rouse  them  to 
a  defiance  that  restores  them,  if  they  have  strength  to  re 
cuperate  :  if  they  have  not  strength  for  defiance,  they  sink 
to  chronic  states  or  die. 

Moreton  was  fond  of  " breaking  in"  patients,  as  hospital 
managers  call  it.  He  tried  to  "  break  in  "  Mr.  Randall,  a 
New-England  man  of  fifty  years,  —  a  man  whose  sons  were 
in  Chicago,  and  other  parts  of  the  West,  among  the  enter 
prising  of  those  places.  Mr.  Randall  had  the  misfortune 
to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  medical  faculty,  and  thence 
into  the  asylum.  He  was  a  sturdy,  solid  man,  and  could  not 
see  the  justice  of  his  "treatment."  Moreton  and  the  at 
tendants  "put  the  screws  to  him."  We  beg  pardon  of  the 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OP  LIBERTY.  273 

public  for  using  this  expression ;  but,  if  we  describe  prison- 
scenes,  we  must  use  prison  language.  Mr.  Randall  was 
kicked  and  stamped  with  nailed  boot-heels  till  the  marks 
covered  his  body.  Hope  and  life  paled  under  such  cruel 
ties.  A  patient,  looking  on,  exclaimed,  "  Good  God !  We 
have  societies  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals, 
where  are  the  societies  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to 
human  beings  ?  Shall  man,  created  in  God's  image,  in  this 
day  and  generation,  be  thus  subjected  to  man's  brutality? 
Why  is  it  that  intelligent  men  shut  up  here,  and  witness 
ing  such  horrors,  do  not  tell  of  them  to  the  world  ?  " 

"Because,"  said  another  patient,  "when  men  get  out 
of  here,  they  want  to  shake  off  the  dust  of  these  remem 
brances,  and  do  not  care  to  publish  their  sorrows  to  the 
world  from  very  shame." 

Reports  of  the  cell-deaths  do  not  often  reach  the  outer 
world.  The  witnesses  of  these  deaths  are  angels  and  the 
unseen  God.  The  records  are  kept  in  the  archives  of  the 
place  whither  we  are  all  going.  We  shall  meet  them  there ; 
and  then  we  shall  read  how  the  people  were  lying  alone  in 
their  little  cells ;  and  there  was  no  one  by  to  wipe  the 
death-damps  from  their  brows,  or  to  whisper  in  tones  of 
soothing  love.  Then  we  shall  read,  also,  how  the  spirits 
and  angels  of  the  great  God  came  and  took  the  sufferers 
away.  Earthly  tablets  bear  no  stories  of  these  lone  depar 
tures;  yet  such  deaths  are  occurring  in  every  asylum  and 
prison  and  locked-up  house. 

In  those  cells  people  lie,  and  die  as  they  live,  helpless, 
hopeless  prisoners.  The  trustees  walk  through  the  halls ; 
and  many  patients  look  forward  to  their  coming  with  hope, 
but  their  hopes  fail  when  the  gentlemen  come.  The  eagle 
eyes  of  the  overseers  and  attendants  prevent  approach  to 
the  men,  as  they  walk  through  with  the  doctors  by  their 
sides.  Or,  if  patients  do  dare  to  speak,  the  ears  of  the  trus 
tees  seem  not  to  hear. 


274  BELLA  ; 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  a  patient  one  day,  rising  boldly,  and 
meeting  them,  in  Dr.  Gracio's  establishment,  "if  you 
wish  to  know  how  things  are  here,  you  should  stay  day 
and  night.  You  can  find  out  in  no  other  way." 

Moreton,  following  in  the  rear,  ground  his  teeth,  and 
glared  at  the  patient. 

"  The  Devil  take  Jones,"  he  muttered.  "  I  should  like 
to  lay  hands  on  him ;  and  I  will  by  and  by.  I'll  shake 
daylight  out  of  him,  by  G — ." 

Dr.  Gracio  cut  the  scene  short  by  hurrying  the  gentle 
men  forward ;  and  going  out  of  the  hall  door,  he  locked  it 
behind  them,  saying,  "Mr.  Jones  is  a  very  crazy  man. 
You  must  excuse  his  speaking." 

Mr.  Jones,  standing  within,  helpless,  thought,  "  They 
may  pass  us  by,  nor  listen  to  our  complaints ;  but  there  is 
One  whom  they  cannot  shut  out.  His  eyes  see;  his  ears 
hear;  and  he  will  rise  in  judgment  to  save  his  suffering 
ones." 

Sometimes,  for  successive  days,  and  even  weeks,  Dr. 
Gracio's  sensitiveness  would  not  permit  him  to  go  through 
the  halls,  except  a  supervisor  walked  by  his  side,  to  prevent 
the  patients  speaking  to  him.  If  he  walked  through 
alone,  the  patients,  feeling  that  he  had  absolute  power  in 
the  house,  went  to  him  with  complaints  and  requests. 
Miss  Partridge  told  the  women  that  they  annoyed  the 
doctor  exceedingly  by  this  course ;  but  they  only  answered, 
"  Who  shall  we  go  to  ?  If  Dr.  Gracio  cannot  listen  to  the 
wants  of  his  patients,  let  him  resign,  and  let  the  place  be 
filled  by  some  one  who  can  listen." 

Miss  Partridge  turned,  disgusted,  from  such  unreasona 
ble,  remarks.  "As  though  a  man  like  Dr.  Gracio  was 
going  to  wear  himself  out  in  listening  to  such  as  you!" 
she  curtly  observed. 

Therefore  he  walked  sedately  through  j   and  Miss  Par- 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  275 

tridge  walked  sedately  beside  him.  Not  a  woman  dared  to 
speak,  however  pressing  her  wants.  When  he  finished  his 
tour  in  the  women's  halls,  Moreton  took  him  through  the 
men's;  and  he  was  safe  then.  Misery  dared  not  speak  in 
his  presence,  nor  could  anguish  utter  a  word. 

Out  in  the  world  Miss  Partridge  would  have  passed  as  a 
very  nice  woman,  a  lady  of  decision,  but  none  the  less 
respected  on-  that  account.  And  Moreton  was  not  more 
brutal  in  free  life  than  thousands  of  uneducated  men ; 
but  this  prison-life  is  a  test,  a*  touchstone,  that  develops 
qualities  unthought  of  in  open  social  life.  There  are  peo 
ple  who  will  not,  and  cannot,  stay  as  servants  or  attend 
ants  in  these  institutions :  their  sensibilities  cannot  en 
dure  such  scenes ;  and  they  leave.  There  are  others  who 
can  harden  into  the  life,  until  nothing  is  too  cruel  for 
them ;  and  these  are  the  people  who  remain,  as  a  general 
rule. 

Dr.  Gracio  wrote  very  excellent  reports  for  printing  and 
public  circulation.  His  words  were  as  "apples  of  gold, 
fitly  chosen."  His  sentiments,  as  he  expressed  them, 
were  Christlike.  He  also  had  a  flattering  way  of  speaking, 
among  his  patients,  of  the  superior  arrangements  of  his 
house.  It  sounded  like  boasting;  though  he  intended  to 
inspire  them  with  the  idea,  that,  under  his  care,  they  were 
more  comfortable  than  they  would  be  in  more  illy-regulated 
establishments.  The  patients  to  whom  he  talked  were 
the  elegantly-dressed  ladies  in  the  "  best  hall."  To  the 
wretched,  in  the  long,  dreary  corridors,  he  never  talked. 
He  said  to  a  visiting  lady  one  day,  "  We  have  no  filthy 
under-ground  cells,  "where  we  keep  patients ;  nor  rooms 
four  feet  square,  in  which  they  lie  coiled ;  nor  rooms  with 
out  ventilation."  He  often  remarked  thus  to  the  friends 
of  the  patients;  and  always  with  a  bland,  benevolent 
expression  of  countenance,  that  led  visitors  to  think  him 


276  BELLA  ; 

the  most  excellent  of  men,  and  to  publish  his  praises 
wherever  they  went. 

A  patient,  to  whom  he  said  the  same,  replied,  "  Doctor, 
if  you  know  of  institutions  where  such  cells  are  used,  and 
that  human  beings  are  suffering  in  them,  why  don't  you 
make  the  facts  known  to  the  public  ?" 

He  made  a  slight  reply,  and  turned  away.  "Patients 
have  such  absurd  ideas  that  there  is  no  use  in  talking  with 
them,"  he  murmured. 

Thus  asylum  officials  often  say,  "3'atients  have  such 
insane  ideas,  that  no  trust  can  be  placed  in  what  they  say. 
There  is  no  use  in  believing  in  them." 

Thus  by  the  word  "  insane,"  the  officials  disparage  the 
testimony  of  the  persons  who  suffer  under  them,  while 
they  go  on  in  their  unfeeling  barbarities. 

Asylum  cruelties  differ  in  different  institutions.  If  Dr. 
Gracio  had  no  dungeons  and  underground  rooms  in  use  for 
patients,  he  permitted  his  attendants  full  sway ;  and  the 
very  tenderness  that  he  considered  a  virtue,  by  keeping 
him  aloof  from  whatever  was  disagreeable,  left  his  attend 
ants  to  their  own  devices ;  and  the  patients  endured  the 
consequences.  Hence  the  sufferings  in  bath-tubs,  when 
ill-tempered  attendants  let  cold  water  run  over  shivering 
bodies ;  and  hence,  too,  the  agonies  in  the  blinded  rooms, 
when  women,  and  men  too,  lay  bound  all  night  in  leather 
straps. 

Was  this  fastidious  superintendent  ignorant  of  these 
actions  ?  He  certainly  knew  that  the  house  was  furnished 
with  camisoles,  straps,  and  other  instruments  of  bondage. 
He  knew,  also,  that  attendants  were  'constantly  changing, 
bringing  in  all  kinds  of  tempers  to  rule  his  house. 

Bella  did  not  see  these  hard  parts  of  Dr.  Gracio's  estab 
lishment.  Her  chamber  was  near  his  own  rooms ;  conse 
quently  she  was  free  from  all  unpleasant  sounds.  She  saw 


OE,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  277 

only  the  smiles  of  Miss  Partridge,  the  pleasant  face  of  Dr. 
Gracio,  and  the  obsequiousness  of  the  servants.  But  she 
felt  —  her  own  troubles.  Secluded  from  all  that  was  dis 
agreeable  in  the  house,  and  supplied  with  the  best  they 
could  bestow,  she  yet  could  find  no  happiness.  She  thought 
of  Harry,  and  walked  her  beautiful  chamber,  considering 
and  pondering.  Time  was  passing.  No  news  of  her  own 
came  to  her.  She  was  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  a 
prisoner  without  hope.  She  passed  and  repassed  before 
her  swinging  mirror.  She  clasped  her  hands,  her  eyes  up 
turned  to  heaven,  and  her  raven  curls  floated  back  in  wild 
disorder.  Her  lips  moved  in  agonizing  prayer.  There 
were  no  tears  in  her  eyes ;  but  they  burned  like  coals  of 
fire,  and  the  light  in  them  turned  to  wild  despair.  She 
said  in  her  heart,  "  No  —  no.  Harry  will  not  come.  He 
will  not  find  me  ;  for  though  he's  a  firm,  strong  man,  though 
he  is  good  and  true,  Frederic  is  as  firm  and  strong  as 
he,  more  polished,  more  subtle,  as  wicked  as  Harry  is 
good,  as  deceitful  as  Harry  is  true.  Fred  will  not  tell 
Harry  where  I  am.  No,  he  will  never  tell.  What 
shall  I  do?  I  cannot  bear  it.  I  cannot,  cannot,  cannot 
bear  it.  I  will  not,  will  not  bear  it." 

The  marble-topped  table  and  bureau  became  as  mere 
dust  in  her  eyes ;  the  carpet  was  as  sand  beneath  her  feet ; 
and  even  her  own  flowing  curls  were  matted  and  unkempt. 
Her  whole  life  was  centred  on  the  one  point,  freedom 
against  bondage  ;  and  her  soul  was  fearfully  strained  in  the 
contest. 

"  Calm  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  soliloquy.  "  They  tell  me  I 
must  be  calm !  Why,  I  cannot  be  calm  !  I  do  not  want 
to  live  !  If  I  cannot  have  freedom  and  peace  on  earth,  let 
me  go  to  heaven.  There  are  no  iron  bolts  and  bars  in  that 
blest  land.  Here  I  can  have  no  peace.  Wherever  I  go, 
Frederic  will  pursue  me.  Oh,  what  a  wicked  brother  he 
24 


278  BELLA  ; 

is !  But  I  could  escape  his  wickedness,  I  could  get  away 
from  him,  were  it  not  for  these  prisons  !  Why  does  my 
country  build  these  prisons,  with  their  locks  and  keys  ?  To 
shut  up  the  sick  and  suffering,  and  cause  them  to  suffer  more; 
to  shut  up  people  that  they  may  weep  unseen ;  to  give 
wicked  relatives  a  chance  to  rule  the  good ;  to  give  blinded 
relatives  a  chance  to  show  their  want  of  sight ;  to  give  fool 
ish  doctors  a  way  to  get  rid  of  patients  whom  they  are  too 
ignorant  to  cure  at  home  ;  and  to  give  a  few  officers  of  the 
institution  a  chance  to  get  rich.  I  know  enough  about  asy 
lums.  They  are  cruel  prisons.  They  feed  on  the  blood  of 
families,  and  devour  their  victims.  I  hate  their  cruelties, 
and  I  hate  their  kindnesses,  so  unlike  free-life  kindness. 
I  want  my  freedom.  I  want  my  mother.  I  want  Harry 
and  Edward  and  Mortimer.  If  I  can  have  none  of  these, 
I  want  heaven.  0  Father  above  !  if  there  is  nothing  more 
for  me  but  these  imprisoned  days  and  nights,  take  me  to 
thyself." 

While  she  was  walking  thus,  a  servant  looked  in  ;  but 
Bella  took  no  notice.  She  continued  walking  and  talking, 
with  her  hands  still  clasped,  her  eyes  upturned,  and  her 
dishevelled  tresses  flowing.  The  servant  ran  out  in  affright, 
flew  across  the  passage,  and  down  the  stairs,  calling,  "Miss 
Partridge,  Miss  Partridge,  Miss  Forresst  is  dreadful ! " 

Then  Miss  Partridge  went  up,  other  women  went,  and 
Dr.  Gracio  followed.  They  laid  Bella  on  the  bed.  Fever 
was  in  her  eyes,  fever  was  on  her  brain,  her  head  was  as 
fire,  her  feet  as  ice,  her  breath  came  thick  and  hot,  her 
speech  grew  incoherent.  She  tossed  and  turned  and  raved, 
and  uttered  half-formed  phrases  of  Mortimer  and  Harry, 
of  Edward  and  Emily,  and  the  Norwegian  home.  Thus 
she  lay,  while  the  fever  burned.  Her  eyes  grew  hopeless 
and  dim,  she  took  no  notice  of  those  around  her;  the 
thoughts  she  had  were  far  away,  and  she  moaned  as  in 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  279 

great  pain.  They  watched  and  tended  her,  staid  by  her 
day  and  night,  gave  her  cooling'  drinks,  and  sought  by 
medical  arts  to  assuage  her  distress.  But  she  heeded  not. 
Her  lips  were  parched,  and  her  hair  tangled  as  she  turned 
in  her  agony.  They  tried  to  comb  it,  and  to  keep  it 
smooth,  but  it  would  not  stay.  Miss  Partridge  said,  "  We 
must  cut  it  off ; "  but  Dr.  Gracio  answered,  "  It  is  a  pity  to 
cut  it.  We  will  try  a  little  longer." 

Then  they  tried,  but  all  in  vain.  She  tossed  and  raved, 
the  curls  matted  yet  more,  and  at  length  they  severed 
them,  one  by  one ;  and  there  she  lay,  with  wild,  glassy 
eyes,  .and  shorn  locks. 


280  BELLA  j 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

?S  there  anything  more  I  can  do  for  you  ?"  asked 
Harry  Forresst,  as  he  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  small 
hotel  parlor  beside  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beale. 

"Nothing,"  they  answered  in  concert.  "We 
shall  be  every  way  comfortable.  Take  good  care  of 
yourself,  and  bring  Bella  back  with  you.  That  is  all  we 
ask." 

"  Never  fear  for  me,"  said  Harry,  with  a  full  metallic 
ring  in  his  words.  •  "  You  can  trust  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  can.     Good-by." 

"  Good-by,"  said  Harry ; "  and  in  the  next  instant  he  was 
outside  the  hotel,  and  on  his  way  to  the  station  to  take  the 
train  for  New  York. 

"  The  old  people  will  be  comfortable,"  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  hurried  on.  "  A  little  lonely  perhaps,  but  they 
won't  mind  that.  It  is  well  I  did  not  tell  them  all  my  sus 
picions.  How  they  would  worry  !  " 

Indeed,  it  was  well  that  he  kept  his  thoughts  secret. 
He  only  told  them,  that  probably  some  mistake  as  to  time 
had  delayed  Bella.  In  his  heart  he  thought,  "  It  is  Fred, 
—  at  least,  I  fear  he  has  done  this  "  — 

What  he  meant  by  this,  he  hardly  knew.  He  was  not 
given  to  speculative  thoughts,  and  did  not  attempt  to  im 
agine  how  Frederic  had  prevented  Bella's  going,  but  has 
tened  on,  resolved  to  learn  how,  and  to  find  her.  He 
reached  New  York,  and,  as  soon  as  possible,  appeared  in 


OB,  THE   CKADLE  OF  LIBEETY.  281 

Brooklyn,  at  his  sister's  house.  He  found  company  there, 
guests  whom  his  sister  was  entertaining  ;  but  he  heeded 
them  not.  With  a  pre-occupied  air  he  asked  to  see  Mrs. 
Bergmann  in  a  private  room.  He  was  shown  into  a  small 
room,  and  Mrs.  Bergmann  soon  entered. 

"  Why,  Harry  !  "  she  siiid,  advancing  to  take  his  hand. 
"I  am  quite  surprised." 

Harry  did  not  take  her  hand.  He  was  standing  ;  and  he 
turned  towards  her,  his  earnest  eyes  piercing  her  with  their 
inquiring  expression. 

"  Nellie,  where  is  Bella  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Bergmann  quailed.  Then  she  said, 
"  I  thought  Bella  was  going  with  you." 

Harry's  eyes  dilated.     He  looked  at  her  more  search- 


"  Is  not  Bella  here,  in  this  house  ?  " 

"  No,  Harry.  I  told  you  I  thought  she  was  going  with 
you." 

"  Is  mother  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  :  mother  and  Frederic  have  gone  hack  to  Boston." 

"  There  I  am  going  too  !     Good-by." 

He  was  half  way  out  of  the  room  before  she  compre 
hended  him. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Harry?  Where  are  you  going?" 
she  called  after  him. 

"  To  Boston,"  he  answered  ;  and,  closing  the  door  behind 
him,  he  was  in  the  street  ere  she  moved  from  her  position. 
Then  she  went  to  the  window,  and  looked  out,  to  be  sure 
she  was  not  dreaming.  She  saw  him  going  away  with  the 
utmost  velocity,  never  once  turning  his  head  to  look  back. 
She  watched  till  he  disappeared  from  view;  then  murmur 
ing,  "Strange,"  she  slowly  returned  to  her  guests. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  strong  man  rouse  from  a  lifetime 
reverie  ?  Did  you  ever  see  a  firm  man  when  he  first  be- 

24* 


282  BELLA  ; 

came  conscious  that  he  had  inward  powers  ?  Such  a  man 
at  such  a  moment  might  have  been  seen  by  watching 
Harry  Forresst  in  that  journey  between  New  York  and 
Boston.  Powers  that  had  slumbered  in  him  hitherto  awoke 
now,  and  he  felt  deep  emotions  such  as  he  had  never 
dreamed  he  possessed. 

As  he  stepped  from  the  car  in  Boston,  and  moved  majes 
tically  away  from  the  station,  he  thought,  "  Yes,  I  am  a 
match  for  Frederic.  I  believe  I  have  his  strength  of  will ; 
but  God  grant  I  may  use  it  for  a  better  purpose  than 
he." 

Then  his  thoughts  assumed  a  prayerful  form ;  and  he  said, 
"  Let  me  do  right,  0  Father,  —  help  me  now  !  " 

He  entered  his  sister's  house,  and  he  went  straight  to  her 
room.  He  stood  before  her,  holding  his  hat  in  his  left  hand, 
and  said,  "Eunice,  where  is  Bella  ?  " 

She  was  frightened,  both  at  seeing  him  there,  and  at  his 
manner.  Rising,  she  said,  "  I  do  not  know.  I  thought 
she  went  with  you." 

At  that  moment  the  mother  entered;  and  Harry  turned 
to  her.  "  Mother,"  said  he,  and  a  strange  tenderness  filled 
his  voice,  "  where  is  Bella?  " 

"  Harry,"  replied  the  old  lady,  a  tremor  seizing  her, 
"  isn't  she  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,  mother.  I  have  not  seen  her ;  but  somebody  knows 
where  she  is,  and  I  shall  find  out." 

He  started  toward  the  door ;  but  the  mother  intercepted 
him. 

"  Harry,"  she  said  solemnly,  "  do  not  go  to  Frederic  now. 
Wait." 

"  Why  should  I  wait  ?  " 

"  My  son,  I  see  a  strange  light  in  your  eyes ;  and  Freder 
ic  has  a  temper.  I  dare  not  have  you  two  meet  now." 

Harry  stooped,  and  put  his  arm  gently  about  his  mother. 


OK,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  283 

Then  he  said,  "I  know  I  am  angry,  as  I  never  was  angry 
before ;  but  I  shall  curb  my  temper,  in  the  strength  of  the 
Lord  I  shall  govern  it.  I  shall  do  Frederic  no  bodily  harm  ; 
but  I  must  find  Bella.  Pray  for  me,  mother,  while  I  am 
with  my  brother:  I  shall  need  your  prayers.  Eunice,  be 
tender  of  her." 

Then  he  gently  placed  his  mother  in  Eunice's  arms,  and 
went  out. 

Frederic  was  busy  as  Harry  entered  his  office.  Some 
gentlemen  were  with  him.  He  was  settling  tfye  details  of 
some  business  with  them.  A  clerk  was  industriously  writ 
ing. 

Frederic  did  not  see  Harry,  nor  hear  him,  till  he  was 
aroused  by  a  tap  on  his  shoulder.  He  turned,  and  met 
Harry  face  to  face. 

"  Frederic,"  said  Harry,  "  where  is  Bella  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  was  Frederic's  reply,  "  I  thought  she 
had  emigrated  with  you." 

Harry  looked  Frederic  steadily  in  the  eyes,  and  repeated 
his  question. 

«  Where  is  Bella  ?  " 

Frederic  recoiled  slightly.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  retreated  one  slight  step.  The  light  of  Harry's  eyes 
was  too  strong  for  him.  He  rallied,  however,  in  a  mo 
ment,  and  replied  haughtily,  — 

"What  should  I  know  of  her?  You  took  her  under 
your  care.  Couldn't  you  keep  her  ?  " 

"Frederic!"  said  Harry,  and  his  voice  was  hollow  with 
suppressed  emotion,  "  where  is  Bella  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  honor ! "  responded  Mr.  Frederic.  "  You 
seem  a  little  beside  yourself,  and  have  chosen  a  very  inop 
portune  time  to  trouble  me  with  your  vagaries.  Take  a 
seat,  will  you,  till  I  have  finished  with  these  gentlemen  ?  " 

Then,  with  polished  ease,  he  turned  to  the  gentlemen 


284  BELLA  ; 

who  were  staring  with  half-suppressed  curiosity,  and  bland 
ly  said,  "  Pardon  this  interruption,  gentlemen.  We  will 
go  on." 

They  went  on,  and  every  minutise  was  as  carefully  at 
tended  to  as  though  no  interruption  had  occurred  ;  and  yet 
Frederic  knew  that  Harry's  eyes  were  every  moment  fast 
ened  on  him. 

At  last  the  two  brothers  were  alone ;  and  there,  in  that 
business  office,  they  stood  and  looked  each  other  in  the  face. 
Harry  repeated  his  question. 

"Where  is  Bella?" 

"You  are  very  presuming,"  Frederic  returned.  "What 
do  I  know  of  Bella  ?  You  took  her  yourself,  as  you  well 
know." 

"Frederic,"  said  Harry,  "you  know  she  never  came  to 
me.  Tell  me  where  she  is,  or  I  shall  never  leave  your  side, 
nor  cease  to  ask  you  where  she  is." 

"  So,  then,  we  are  to  have  two  lunatics  in  the  family  ! 
Upon  my  honor,  you  are  as  crazy  as  she  is  !  " 

Harry  made  no  reply ;  but  he  fastened  his  eyes  upon 
Frederic's  face,  and  remained  quiet.  Frederic  arranged  his 
papers,  wrote  a  little,  but  grew  uneasy.  Those  eyes  were 
too  powerful  for  him.  He  arose,  called  his  clerk,  gave  him 
a  few  directions,  then  took  his  cane  and  gloves,  put  his  hat 
upon  his  head,  and  went  out.  Harry  followed;  and,  as 
Frederic  came  upon  the  broad  sidewalk,  Harry  was  at  his 
side. 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  said  Frederic,  turning  angrily 
toward  him.  "  This  is  unbearable.  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"Bella." 

Frederic  swung  his  cane,  the  mustache  twitched,  but  he 
did  not  speak ;  and  the  two  walked  on.  Frederic  walked 
at  random,  up  one  street,  down  another;  but  Harry  was  not 
to  be  wearied.  Sturdily,  and  steadily  he  marched  by  his 
brother's  side. 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  285 

At  last  Frederic's  patience  gave  way.  With  an  upward 
fling  of  the  cane,  he  turned  to  Harry. 

"  One  would  think  you  had  lost  your  senses  !  Why  do 
you  follow  me  so  ?  " 

"  Tell  ine  what  you  have  done  with  Bella." 
"  You  are  making  a  bold  assertion,"  said  Frederic.     "I 
—  indeed  !  —  what  have  I  done  ?    You  took  her  yourself." 
"  Frederic,"  said    Harry,  his    eyes    emitting   suppressed 
wrath,  "  we  will  waste  no  words.     I  told  you  you  would  rue 
the  day  you  played  me  false.     Tell  me  now  into  what  asy 
lum  or  other  hole  you  have  put  Bella,  or  " 
Frederic  interrupted  him. 

''  Upon  my  honor !  If  you  have  an  accusation  against 
me,  the  law  is  open.  You  have  threatened  me  with  it : 
now  try  it.  Prove  that  I  have  put  her  anywhere." 

"  It  is  too  late  for  law,"  Harry  replied.  "  While  I  should 
be  getting  out  writs,  and  procuring  evidence,  she  would  be 
pining,  perishing,  or  going  mad  in  those  mad-houses ! 
Besides,  after  I  had  proved  every  thing  against  you,  she 
would  be  still  unfound ;  for  these  institutions  are  all  over 
the  country,  and  you  can  move  her  from  place  to  place,  keep 
ing  her  always  out  of  my  reach.  No:  I  shall  not  try  law, 
except  the  law  of  strength  and  right.  Tell  me  what  you 
have  done  with  her !  "  and  once  more  Harry's  eyes  pierced 
Frederic's  soul.  It  was  a  contest  of  strength  against 
strength  :  the  strength  of  truth  and  right  was  pitted  against 
falsehood  and  wrong.  Truth  showed  her  supremacy. 
Frederic  felt  that  Harry's  power  over  him  was  mightier 
than  men's  laws.  He  could  have  equivocated  in  court,  and 
could  have  brought  witnesses  to  sustain  his  position ;  but 
this  silent  witness  of  eye  to  eye  was  more  than  his  nerves 
could  sustain.  He  turned  towards  his  home,  his  mustache 
and  his  cane  twirling  as  by  one  spiral  impulse.  Harry  kept 
steady  pace  with  every  step.  Frederic  ascended  the  elegant 


286  BELLA  ; 

steps  of  his  house.  Harry  went  up  by  his  side.  Frederic 
entered  the  hall  and  the  drawing-room.  Harry  silently 
entered  with  him.  Frederic  turned  then,  and  glared  at 
him. 

"  How  long  do  you  intend  to  follow  me  ?  " 

"What  have  you  done  with  Bella?  "  asked  Harry. 

Frederic  turned,  and  went  swiftly  to  the  library.  Harry 
followed  as  quickly.  The  servants  were  attracted,  and  soon 
notified  Mrs.  Forresst  that  her  husband's  brother  had  come 
home  with  him,  and  they  were  "  having  a  frolic  in  the  li 
brary."  She  ordered  an  extra  plate  laid,  and  presently 
they  were  both  summoned  to  dinner.  They  did  not  go. 
Mrs.  Forresst  soon  came  in :  she  kindly  asked  if  either 
was  ill. 

"  No  :  pre-occupied."     Frederic  answered. 

She  returned  to  the  table,  wondering. 

An  hour  passed.  Frederic  had  neither  moved  nor  spoken. 
Nor  had  Harry.  Then  Mrs.  Forresst  came  again,  and 
pleaded  to  know  the  trouble.  Neither  of  the  men  ex 
plained  it. 

Another  hour  passed.  Frederic  opened  a  book.  He 
tried  to  read,  and  to  appear  indifferent ;  but  he  could  not. 
Those  eyes  —  he  never  knew  Harry  had  such  eyes !  He 
turned  every  way  to  get  from  their  gaze,  but  he  could  not. 
He  rushed  to  the  door  to  escape.  Harry  rushed  with  him. 
He  went  silently  back.  Harry  also  returned.  The  doom 
he  had  given  Bella  had  recoiled  upon  himself.  He  was 
under  guard  in  his  own  house.  The  servants  whispered 
together.  They  began  to  suspect  it  was  a  serious  frolic. 

It  was  one  o'clock  that  night  when  Frederic's  wife  came 
in,  and,  seating  herself  between  the  two  men,  began  seri 
ously  to  inquire  the  cause  of  their  strange  conduct.  Little 
by  little  she  found  it  out.  Slowly  the  truth  came  to  her. 
Then  she  turned  to  Harry. 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OP  LIBERTY.  287 

"  But  this  man  whom  Bella  likes  is  very  unsuitable  for 
her,  I  am  told,"  she  remarked. 

"  That  is  not  the  point,"  said  Harry.  "  I  will  enter  into 
no  discussion  as  to  that.  The  question  is  this.  Has 
Frederic  a  right  to  imprison  her,  and  bring  upon  her  a  life- 
blight  of  misery,  because  she  does  not  please  him  in  all 
she  does  ?  " 

Mrs.  Forresst  turned  to  her  husband.  "  Tell  us  how  it 
is,"  she  said. 

It  was  not  simply  because  she  asked,  nor  because  the 
hour  was  late,  nor  because  he  was  weary,  that  Frederic  an 
swered.  It  was  because  his  falsehood  had  yielded  to  the 
continued  pressure  of  Harry's  truth.  Harry's  clear  eyes 
had  conquered.  The  almost  indomitable  spirit  of  Frederic 
Forresst  succumbed  and  yielded  then.  He  arose,  took  his 
wife's  hand  within  his  arm,  and,  turning  to  Harry,  he 

said,  "  You  will  find  her  at  the  asylum  in .  I  could 

do  no  better  for  her  than  to  put  her  under  the  care  of  Dr. 
Gracio,  the  most  celebrated  mental  physician  of  the  coun 
try." 

He  bowed,  and  turned  to  go ;  but  Harry  waved  his  hand 
imperiously,  and  pointed  to  the  writing  materials  on  the 
table. 

"Give  me  a  permit  to  take  her  out,"  he  said.  "I  will 
have  no  obstacles  in  my  way  when  I  get  there." 

Once  more  Frederic  looked  at  Harry.  It  was  eye  to  eye, 
and  face  to  face,  for  a  moment.  Then  the  battle  ended. 
The  victory  was  won.  The  clear  eyes  of  Harry  looked  un 
flinchingly  upon  Frederic's  face.  Frederic's  eyes  drooped. 
His  mustache  relaxed,  his  hand  trembled.  He  soon  stead 
ied  himself,  and  wrote  the  permit.  As  he  handed  it  to 
Harry,  he  said,  "It  would  be  better  to  put  you  in  than  to 
take  her  out." 

"  If  the  places  are  so  beneficial,  it  would  be  well  to  go  in 
yourself,"  was  Harry's  response. 


288  BELLA  ; 

Thus  they  parted.  Harry  went  from  the  house,  Frederic 
to  his  room.  Harry  said,  "  Father  above,  I  thank  thee." 
Frederic  said,  "  Don't  ask  me  any  thing  about  it,"  and  pet 
ulantly  pushed  his  wife  from  him. 

Harry  thought  of  his  mother,  but  would  not  go  to  her  at 
that  late  hour.  He  sought  her  in  the  morning,  and  com 
forted  her  by  telling  her  the  result,  and  assuring  her  that 
he  would  find  Bella,  and  then  it  would  all  be  right.  He 
kissed  the  old  cheeks,  and  said,  "  I  shall  come  back  and  see 
you.  It  may  be  I  shall  take  you  out  there  yet,  when  we 
get  settled."  Then  he  went  steaming  across  the  country 
with  Frederic's  permit  in  his  pocket.  He  took  it  out,  and 
examined  it  as  he  went. 

"Writing  those  few  lines  was  the  hardest  thing  Fred 
ever  did,"  he  said  musingly.  "  I  saw  the  perspiration  on 
his  brow.  Well,  what  will  not  a  man's  temper  lead  him 
to  do  ?  " 

He  went  on  then.  The  way  seemed  easy  now.  "  I  will 
get  her,"  he  thought;  "and  Fred  will  be  punished  enough 
by  knowing  that  we  have  conquered  him." 

Thus  Harry  thought,  and  tranquillized  as  he  drew  near 
Bella.  He  felt  like  a  man  emerging  from  darkness,  and 
like  a  conqueror  in  the  cause  of  right.  He  looked  forward 
to  his  greeting  with  Bella,  thought  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beale 
in  waiting,  and  also  of  the  coming  journey,  and  of  the  ex 
pectant  family  to  whom  he  was  going. 

Witli  all  these  thoughts  in  his  mind,  he  came  to  the 
establishment  of  Dr.  Gracio.  He  entered  the  public  office, 
and  inquired  for  Miss  Forresst.  They  told  him  she  was  too 
ill  to  be  seen.  They  should  not  have  said  it.  Harry 
roused  at  the  words.  "  Too  ill !  Let  me  see  her."  Dr. 
Gracio  assumed  his  most  professional  blandness,  and  began 
a  description  of  her  situation;  but  Harry  only  said,  "Let 
me  see  her ! "  Miss  Partridge  cast  a  deprecatory  glance, 


On,  THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERT?.  289 

and  feared  lest  the  patient  could  not  bear  a  visit :  "  It  might 
injure  her."  Harry  said  again,  "LET  ME  SEE  HER  !  "  His 
voice  had  the  ring  of  decision,  his  manner  was  impetuous, 
like  the  rushing  of  a  fresh  mountain  torrent.  To  resist  him 
was  like  resisting  Nature  itself,  and  the  law-constituted 
guardians  gave  way.  They  led  him  up  the  stairs.  He 
entered  her  beautiful  chamber,  and  paused  beside  her  bed. 
He  looked  in  her  eyes,  and  saw  them  glassy  and  vacant. 
He  laid  his  hand  on  her  forehead  and  spoke  to  her,  but  she 
knew  him  not. 

Then  the  heart  of  the  man  went  into  agony.  He  bowed 
his  bearded  face  to  hers,  he  touched  her  parched  lips,  and 
said  in  a  hollow  voice,  "Bella,  my  belle  Bella,  speak 
to  me.  Don't  you  know  me  ?  I  am  Harry,  old  Harry. 
Do  speak  to  me  one  little  word!" 

But  a  moan  was  her  only  answer ;  and  as  she  turned  her 
burning  head,  and  he  saw  her  short,  shorn  hair,  his  soul 
went  down  like  lead.  One  deep  groan  went  through  him, 
such  a  groan  as  only  a  strong  man  gives.  He  turned,  and 
waved  his  hand.  "Please  go  out  from  me:  let  everyone 
go  out.  I  want  to  be  alone." 

There  was  a  dignity  in  the  tone  of  his  voice,  a  majesty 
in  the  expression  of  his  face  ;  and  they  who  looked  upon 
him  were  awed.  They  went  out,  one  by  one,  silently  and 
softly  disappearing :  the  door  was  closed ;  he  was  alone, 
with  the  shorn  head  and  the  glassy  eyes  before  him. 

Then  he  clasped  his  iron  arms  about  her,  laid  his  broad, 
bronzed  face  upon  her  cheek,  the  dew  of  his  breath  fell 
over  her  like  fragrance,  and  the  warmth  of  his  earnest 
soul  penetrated  the  closed,  burning  pores  of  her  system  ; 
and,  in  the  depth  of  his  earnestness,  he  groaned,  — 

"0  my  sister!  my  sorrowful,  broken  sister?  I  had 
none  that  I  loved  as  I  loved  thee !  And  now  the  curls 
that  our  mother  gave  thee  are  shorn,  thine  eyes  are  glassy 

25 


290  BELLA  ; 

and  wild,  and  when  I  speak  thou  knowest  it  not!  Ac 
cursed  be  these  asylum  walls,  and  accursed  be  these 
asylum  laws  ;  for,  without  their  aid,  Frederic,  with  all  his 
strong  will,  could  never  have  brought  thee  to  this  !  " 

As  he  stooped  and  enfolded  her  thus,  the  magnetic  power 
of  his  breath,  the  old  home  influence,  the  old  home  love, 
stole  from  his  honest  frame  ;  and  his  breath  went  into  her 
soul,  thrilling  over  her  face,  and  warming  it  with  natural 
heat.  It  was  the  breath  of  her  own,  for  which  she  had 
yearned.  It  was  the  breath  of  one  who  drew  from  the 
same  mother's  life,  of  one  whose  father  gave  to  them  both 
incipient  birth ;  and  now  as  he  leaned,  pressing  his  brawny 
face  to  hers,  the  spirit  within  him  whispered  to  her  soul. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken,  not  xa  sound  was  audible ;  yet  the 
maiden  heard,  and  her  spirit  revived,  for  it  felt  the  soul  of 
its  kindred  calling.  It  was  as  the  voice  of  God  :  yea,  it 
was  the  voice  of  God ;  for  God,  who  created  flesh  and 
blood,  created  it  male  and  female,  to  be  husband  and 
wife,  from  whom  should  spring  brothers  and  sisters,  thus 
creating  the  natural  relations  of  blood,  and  thus  forming 
ties  that  are  to  be  sundered  only  by  him.  Neither 
physicians  nor  prisons  nor  asylums  nor  governments 
have  a  right  to  sunder  ties  of  blood,  of  which  the  marital 
tie  is  the  fountain. 

And  there  the  rough  man  sat,  breathing  into  the  maiden 
the  breath  of  life.  Unconsciously  lie  did  his  work.  Un 
consciously  to  himself,  but  not  to  God.  He  watched  them 
both;  he  heard  the  still  prayer;  he  saw  the  work  that 
it  was  good  ;  he  breathed  upon  it  the  "  breath  of  life ; " 
and  Bella  became  "  a  living  soul."  The  Master  came 
down,  and,  touching  her  heart,  said,  "  Maiden,  arise  ! " 
The  blessed  Master!  He  saw  his  servant  unwittingly 
doing  God's  work.  Yes,  Harry  was  healing  spirit  by 
spirit.  He  was  not  forcing  the  soul  to  love  that  which  it 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  291 

could  not  love,  to  be  contented  within  a  hedge  of  prison- 
bars,  to  tread  a  path  of  bondage,  nor  to  abandon  its  sacred 
oaths.  He  was  calling  kindred  spirit  back  to  its  own. 

"  Bella !  "  said  he  in  tones  of  earnest  depth,  "  Bella, 
speak  to  me  !  Oh  !  ray  Bella,  my  sister,  speak  to  me  ! " 

Then  she  turned  slowly  her  head,  looked  up  in  the  eyes 
that  were  looking  in  hers,  and  her  suffering  spirit  seemed 
to  recognize  its  own  life-blood.  She  looked  up  earnestly  in 
those  kind  eyes,  and  a  new  light  darted  into  her  own.  It 
was  the  blue,  her  native  blue,  the  blue  that  was  latent  in 
his.  He  saw  it,  he  knew  it :  hope  came  in  his  heart. 

"  She  is  not  quite  gone,"  he  thought.  "  Love  can  call 
her  back.  Kindred  love  can  waken  her  dying  soul.  She 
wants  her  own.  La  belle  Bella  always  loved  her  own." 

Then  he  passed  his  hand  across  her  brow,  touched  sadly 
her  shorn  head,  and,  still  breathing  his  warm  breath  over 
her,  groaned,  and  his  spirit  yearned  in  speech.  "Bella, 
come  back  to  life !  Bella,  I  have  found  you ;  and  I  will 
never  leave  you  again !  Speak  to  me  !  Speak !  One 
word  !  Speak  ! " 

Slowly  her  spirit  seemed  to  come.  Slowly  through  the 
burning  tendrils  of  her  frame,  slowly  through  the  wild 
raving  of  her  face  and  eyes,  her  own  sweet  spirit  came, 
and,  forcing  itself  up  through  the  tortured  faculties,  found 
its  way  out.  Her  own  true  soul  gleamed  forth,  and  recog 
nized  its  kindred.  Then  her  lips  moved,  her  eyes  spoke, 
her  cheeks  flushed  naturally,  she  threw  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  and  his  soul  thrilled  in  deep  emotion.  He  heard  the 
words,  the  thrilling  words,  "  Harry !  my  Harry !  my  own, 
own  Harry." 

Thus  was  she  rescued  from  madness  and  soul  death. 
Thus  God  restored  her  spirit,  and  gave  to  his  servant 
Harry  the  fruition  of  his  labors. 

Harry  gave   Dr.  Gracio   no   explanation  of  the  family 


292  BELLA  ; 

troubles,  but  he  showed  him  the  paper  that  Frederic  had 
written  and  signed;  and,  when  Bella  was  able  to  ride,  Harry 
dressed  her  head  with  some  false  hair  that  he  bought,  and 
took  her  away.  He  watched  her  as  a  mother  watches  an 
infant,  while  they  rushed  to  the  broad  Western  field  in  an 
easy  car ;  and  his  heart  swelled  with  a  gratitude  he  had 
never  known  before.  He  had  earned  his  happiness ;  and 
she,  leaning  on  him,  said  softly,  "  Harry,  my  own,  own 
Harry ! " 

Thus  they  went,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beale  sat  by  in  grate 
ful  silence. 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  293 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

^N  "Old  and  New,"  February,  1872,  there  is  an 
article  by  Oliver  Dewey,  from  which  we  quote  a 
few  lines.  He  says,  "  Infancy  comes  into  the  world 
like  a  royal  heir,  and  takes  possession  as  if  the 
world  were  made  for  itself  alone.  Itself  is  all  it 
knows.  It  will  by  and  by  take  a  wider  range.  There  is  a 
natural  process  of  improvement  in  the  very  progress  of 
life.  .  .  .  Selfishness,  which  is  the  excess  of  a  just  self- 
regard,  is  the  one  form  of  all  evil  in  the  world.  The  world 
cries  out  upon  it,  and  heaps  upon  it  every  epithet  expres 
sive  of  meanness,  baseness,  or  guilt.  And  let  it  bear  the 
branding  scorn ;  but  let  us  not  fail  to  see,  though  selfish 
ness  be  the  satirist's  mark,  and  the  philosopher's  reproach, 
and  the  theologian's  argument,  the  real  nature  and  value 
of  the  principle  from  which  it  proceeds.  Self-hood,  I  have 
preferred  to  call  it ;  self-love,  be  it,  if  you  please.  .  .  . 
This  magnificent  /,  —  and  I  emphasize  it,  because  all  mean 
ness  is  thought  to  be  concentrated  in  that  word,  —  this 
mysterious  and  magnificent  /,  this  that  one  means  when 
he  says  I,  we  may  utter,  but  can  never  explain,  nor  fully 
express  it.  .  .  .  '  I  think,  therefore  I  am,'  said  the  phi 
losopher;  but  the  bare  utterance  of  the  word  'I'  yields  a 
vaster  inference.  No  animal  ever  knows  what  that  word 
means.  It  is  some  time  before  the  little  child  learns  to  say 
'  I.'  It  says,  '  Willy  or  Ellen  wants  this  or  that,  will  go 
here  or  there.' 

25* 


294  BELLA  ; 

"What  is  insanity  but  the  wreck  of  this  personality? 
The  victim  loses  himself.  And  the  morally  insane,  the 
prodigal,  when  he  returns  to  reason  and  virtue,  returns  to 
himself. 

"  A  man's  self/''  says  Thackeray,  "  must  be  serious  to 
him,  under  whatever  mask  or  disguise  or  uniform  he  pre 
sents  it  to  the  public." 

These  remarks  on  insanity  are  true.  An  insane  person 
has  lost  himself  or  herself.  The  /,  the  tenant  and  owner 
of  the  earthly  tabernacle,  is  gone,  or  has  become  an  injured 
tenant ;  and,  in  the  close  interlacing  of  the  human  house 
and  its  occupant,  neither  can  be  injured  without  hurting 
the  other.  The  /  of  a  man  fills  every  space  and  particle  of 
him  ;  is  in  every  fibre,  atom,  construction,  and  interstice. 
In  his  physical  frame,  his  nerves,  his  delicate  fibrous  skin, 
all  over  him,  through  him,  bounding,  rebounding,  acting, 
doing,  quickening,  and  leading  hither  and  thither,  /  is 
the  spirit  that  animates,  and  the  spirit  is  the  /.  It 
wills,  and  thinks,  and  moves  the  organic  clay  by  which 
it  is  environed ;  and,  in  its  turn,  it  is  moved  upon, 
and  acted  upon,  by  the  earthly  body  that  it  ani 
mates.  We  are  children  of  law,  .and  our  organizations  are 
ruled  by  the  same  laws  that  govern  Nature  in  all  her  de 
partments.  Of  all  constructions  on  the  crust  of  this  globe, 
the  human  system  is  most  complex,  most  artistic,  delicate, 
and  wonderful ;  yet  to  nothing  are  we  so  savage  and  un 
thinkingly  cruel  as  to  these  very  organizations.  In  us 
dwell  thought  and  reason  and  immortal  loves.  We  have 
each  a  personality,  —  an  individuality  that  cannot  be  dis 
turbed  without  creating  pain. 

What  each  individual  needs  is  his  or  her  own  individual 
self  jn  purity  and  freshness.  An  Irish  woman  weeping 
((  behind  the  bars,"  expressed  herself  thus  :  "  I  want  meself, 
meself,  me  own,  own  self.  Why  don't  they  give  me  back 
me  own,  own,  self,  and  make  me  what  I  used  to  be  ?  " 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  295 

Ah,  poor  woman !  How  could  the  hospital  give  her 
back  her  own,  own  self?  Have  hospitals  a  self  for  each 
individual  applicant?  Are  they  God,  that  they  have  the 
mobile  power  of  furnishing  selves  to  Irish,  French,  Ger 
man,  Swede,  English,  American,  young,  old,  learned,  un 
learned,  grave,  or  gay?  Have  they  all  kinds  of  selves,  with 
their  multiplicities  of  attributes  and  peculiarities  of 
natures  ?  Is  it  possible  for  one  set  of  human-made,  strin 
gent  rules,  to  restore  to  each  person  his  or  her  God-stamp 
ed  individualities  ?  Insanity  is  a  disease,  but  it  rests  on  a 
cause.  Something  produces  it,  and  that  something  should 
be  the  subject  of  "  treatment."  The  causes  of  insanity,  are 
as  various  as  the  persons  diseased;  differing  according  to 
age,  sex,  temperaments,  pursuits,  and  other  conditions. 
No  two  persons  are  alike  in  these  respects,  and  no  two 
should  be  treated  alike  for  mental  diseases. 

When  insanity  is  caused  by  physical  disorders,  the  body 
should  be  healed.  This  can  be  done  outside  of  asylums 
more  easily  than  within.  When  insanity  is  caused  by 
stricken  affections,  domestic  troubles,  or  pecuniary  difficul 
ties,  these  soul  afflictions  should  be  healed  by  appliances  of 
their  own  nature.  When  insanity  is  caused  by  the 
patient's  own  sins,  reformatory  measures  are  needed,  but 
not  the  crushing,  soul-trying  measures  of  prison-asylums, 
It  is  cruel  to  keep  people  in  locked  rooms,  suffering  from 
nervous,  physical,  and  soul  derangements,  while  the  causes 
of  these  derangements  are  unnoticed,  never  receiving 
medical  or  other  attention.  Mind,  soul,  spirit,  intellect,  — <• 
all  are  under  law ;  and  Nature  is  intimately  and  powerfully 
associated  with  these  departments  of  humanity,  and  must 
and  will  have  sway.  In  asylums  Nature  is  denied. 

If  a  farmer  has  a  field  of  stunted,  badly-growing  grain, 
does  he  build  walls  about  it,  and  shut  it  in  from  the  sun 
and  rain  ?  Or  does  he  let  it  lie  open  to  the  mists,  the 


296  BELLA  ; 

storms,  and  clear  warm  sky,  looking  anxiously  towards  these 
things  as  helps  to  bring  back  the  wayward  field  ?  Does 
he  let  the  earth  lie  dormant  ?  or  does  he  stir  up  the  fallow 
ground,  so  that  the  smiles  of  God  may  enter  in  ?  That 
which  thou  doest  for  thy  stunted  field,  do  also  for  thy  wife 
or  daughter,  or  poor  old  father !  Take  them  out  of  the 
asylums  and  locked-up  houses,  and  give  them  the  free  winds 
and  suns  and  storms  of  life  !  Have  patience  with  them. 
Shall  men  have  patience  with  fallow  ground,  and  not  with 
their  own  flesh  and  blood  ? 

The  human  system  is  a  harp  of  ten  thousand  strings,  a 
lyre  of  exquisite  finish,  a  lute  of  symphonies.  The  prick 
of  a  pin  will  cause  shivering  thrills  in  a  whole  body ;  a 
word  of  unkindness  will  create  unutterable  agonies.  We 
are  full  of  delicate  nerves ;  and  a  chord  touched  by  accident 
in  one  part  of  a  human  body  will  vibrate  through  the 
whole  system.  And  yet  the  possessors  of  this  wonderful 
mechanism  grow  up  and  live  in  almost  total  ignorance  of 
themselves  constructively.  They  neither  understand  their 
own  organisms,  nor  what  they  can  endure,  nor  for  what 
they  are  fitted,  nor  how  to  repair  themselves  if  injured. 

It  is  time  for  the  intelligence  of  mankind  to  be  directed 
to  the  study  of  itself.  Shall  we  have  our  land  covered  with 
asylums,  penitentiaries,  prisons,  and  other  tortures  for 
erring  minds  ?  Let  the  intelligence  of  the  country  save 
the  country  from  these  evils,  by  giving  the  people  such  in 
struction  as  will  help  save  them.  Many  aberrations  are 
the  result  of  absolute  ignorance  among  the  people.  Hun 
dreds  and  thousands  are  now  lying  in  asylums,  ay,  and  in 
penal  punishment,  who  fell  into  those  conditions  from  utter 
ignorance  of  themselves. 

Our  common  schools  teach  grammar,  geography,  arith 
metic,  and  the  arts  of  reading  and  spelling.  There  ia 
another  science  that  should  be  added  immediately,  —  the 


OB,   THE  CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  297 

science  of  man,  as  he  is  wondrously  and  beautifully  made  ; 
what  will  injure  the  human  system,  and  what  will  preserve 
it,  should  he  as  universally  taught  in  our  public  schools  as 
are  reading  and  writing.  Little  children  would  be  delight 
ed  in  the  study  of  themselves.  Their  own  internal  con 
structions  are  sources  of  woader  to  all  young  people,  and 
proper  instruction  would  save  thousands  in  life  and  happi 
ness.  Children  value  themselves,  and  prize  the  life  that  has 
been  given  them.  They  would  not  knowingly  injure  them 
selves,  and  they  would  not  forget  true  instruction  as  they 
advance  to  mature  life.  Text-books  on  human  life  should 
be  elenjental'and  progressive,  just  as  in  grammar  and  other 
sciences. 

When  we  think  seriously  of  the  myriads  of  contingencies 
surrounding  human  lives,  the  extreme  delicacy  of  the 
human  system,  and  the  ignorance  of  themselves  in  which 
people  live,  it  is  not  a  marvel  that  insanity,  crime,  or  other 
diseases,  should  appear  to  mar  the  exquisite  workmanship. 

We  teach  children  spiritually.  We  tell  them,  that  if 
they  sin  they  will  be  punished,  and  will  never  go  to  heaven. 
But  this  is  not  all  we  should  teach  them.  We  should 
teach  them  the  penalties  of  errors  and  wrong,  just  as  we 
would  tea"ch  them  any  natural  science  ;  thus  enlightening 
their  understandings  as  well  as  touching  their  emotions. 
Vague  fears,  or  anticipations  of  something  in  the  dim 
future,  have  not  sufficient  power  to  hold  people  against  the 
seductions  of  passions.  Passions  clamor  for  instant  gratifi 
cation,  and  the  victims  risk  the  vague,  spiritual  future. 
Children  should  learn  that  crimes,  diseases,  and  insanity 
are  the  natural  results  of  broken  natural  laws;  and  \ve 
can  never  have  a  healthy  vigorous  country  till  people 
understand  themselves  as  creations  of  laws  fixed  by  Nature 
with  physical  penalties  for  violations. 

A  recent  writer  has  attempted  to  prove  that  insanity  ig 


298  BELLA  ; 

a  crime.  If  insanity  is  a  crime,  then  all  diseases  are 
crimes ;  for  insanity  is  a  disease.  It  is  caused,  mayhap, 
by  people's  own  mistakes  and  perversities ;  but  we  may 
say  the  same  of  all  diseases. 

Nearly  akin  to  insanity,  almost  its  counterpart,  is  ner 
vousness  ;  and  innumerable  women  who  have  no  disease 
but  nervousness  are  shut  into  our  asylums  by  physicians. 
In  these  weak  states,  they  are  expected  to  endure  the  trials 
and  aggravations  of  imprisonment.  No  one  has  patience 
with  nervous  people.  They  bear  their  sufferings  without 
sympathy.  Yet  pain  of  the  nerves  is  the  keenest,  the 
most  distressing,  of  all  pain,  except  soul  pain.  Why  do 
not  physicians  know,  that  to  treat  either  soul  or  nervous 
pain  with  impatience  or  harshness  is  to  be  impatient  and 
harsh  with  the  very  Divinity  itself?  The  soul  is  God  in 
man.  The  nerves  are  God's  electric  telegraphs.  Tliese 
rest  on  the  physical  organizations  for  earthly  supports. 
To  touch  them  is  to  touch  the  Great  Unseen. 

We  talk  of  cohesion,  gravitation,  heat,  motion,  elec 
tricity,  and  numberless  hidden  adjuncts  ;  but  behind  all 
these  there  lies  a 'power  that  defies  oiir  capabilities  to 
understand.  This  is  the  power  that  we  call  God.  The 
mighty  forces  are  his  nerves.  The  material  part  of  the  great 
cosmos  is  his  garment.  We,  being  made  in  his  image, 
have  a  soul  which  is  his  essence;  nerves  that  are  to  us  as 
forces ;  and  the  material  body,  which  is  our  garment. 
When  we  touch  the  human  nerves  with  pain,  we  touch 
that  which  touches  the  soul,  which  touches  God.  The 
nerves  are  ethereal,  delicate,  higher  than  the  body,  and 
made  by  God  as  messengers  between  the  priceless  soul  and 
its  garment.  When  physicians,  or  others,  treat  the  nerves 
lightly,  the  sin  is  scarcely  less  than  mistreating  the  soul. 
Nerves  are  our  electric  soul  telegraphs.  They  are  deftly 
intertwined  within  us,  responding  to  every  thought,  'dbrat- 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  299 

ing  to  every  thrill.  If  they  become  diseased,  the  con  sequences 
to  our  bodies  and  souls  are  on  the  same  plan  that  the  con 
sequences  would  be  to  creation,  if  the  mighty  forces  that 
lie  between  God  and  the  material  universe  were  destroyed. 
If  these  great  forces  were  disturbed,  the  power  of  the  great 
eternal  Spirit  over  the  material  universe  would  be  gone, 
and  destruction  of  present  existences  must  ensue.  So  in 
the  human  system,  the  most  intense  agonies,  and  certain 
destruction,  follow  injured  nerves.  They  are  the  visible 
wires  on  which  the  powers  of  thought  run,  as  electricity 
runs  on  wires  of  iron.  Break  a  wire,  and  electricity  no 
longer  uses  it.  Sunder  a  nerve,  and  soul  no  longer  uses 
it ;  but  the  body  quivers  in  pain.  With  these  delicate 
organisms  we  live  in  ignorance. 

It  may  be  said  that  all  people  cannot  become  physicians. 
We  do  not  want  they  should.  We  would  have  fewer  doc 
tors,  not  more.  But  all  people  can  learn  the  primary  rules 
of  life,  its  foundations,  laws,  methods  of  preserving  nature 
in  its  purity;  how  to  avoid  that  which  injures,  and  why  it 
injures ;  how  body  and  soul  are  combined ;  and  how 
to  judge  of  themselves  and  their  families,  and  thus 
save  themselves  from  quackery,  inebriated  doctors,  and 
doctors  who  can  never  practise  properly,  because  Nature 
never  gave  them  suitable  judgment. 

J.  G.  Holland  says,  "  My  physician  shall  walk  hand  in 
hand  with  my  pastor,  in  my  esteem,  confidence,  and  affec 
tion.  He  shall  be  welcome  to  my  table,  my  hearthstone, 
and  my  heart ;  but  I  utter  no  more  than  a  self-evident 
truth,  when  I  say,  that,  because  a  man  passes  an  examina 
tion  before  a  corps  of  medical  professors,  he  is  not,  neces 
sarily,  qualified  for  a  physician  ;  and  that  there  are 
members  of  the  profession  who  sit  in  their  offices,  with 
their  diplomas  signed  and  sealed,  ay,  and  framed  and 
glazed  before  them,  impatiently  waiting  for  patients,  who 


300  BELLA  ; 

vulgarly  look  upon  their  profession  as  a  trade,  and  in 
whose  care  it  would  not  be  safe  to  risk  a  sick  horse  worth 
twenty-five  dollars." 

This  is  the  testimony  of  J.  G-.  Holland,  given  to  a  pub 
lic  that  will  readily  indorse  the  sentiment ;  and  yet  that 
public  allows  these  physicians,  by  law,  to  sign  certificates 
that  banish  the  finest  people  to  cells  of  prison-like  chill, 
and  to  hopeless  misery.  The  great  public  lays  its  head  on 
the  block  before  these  physicians ;  and  they  do  with  us  as 
they  will.  Our  people,  intelligent  as  they  are,  are  power 
less"  before  physicians,  because  of  ignorance.  When  we 
are  ill,  we  all  lie  down  together,  the  old  and  the  young, 
the  learned  and  the  unlearned,  —  all  classes ;  and  doctors 
gather  over  us.  They  write  their  prescriptions  in  unknown 
tongues  ;  and  we  are  satisfied.  They  talk  in  big-sounding 
words ;  and  we  are  dumb  before  their  faces.  They  con 
coct  strange  compounds;  and  we  swallow  them.  They 
send  us  to  prison ;  and  we  go.  We  know  nothing  of  our 
selves,  and  dare  not  dispute  their  words. 

At  present,  if  young  people  learn  how  to  take  care  of 
themselves,  to  guard  their  health,  or  keep  themselves  from 
the  encroachments  of  inward  passions,  it  is  by  chance.  A 
maxim  here,  or  an  ignorant  direction  there ;  a  chance  word 
from  some  relative,  or  a  religious  precept  of  eternal  judg 
ments, —  are  all  the  sources  from  which  the  masses  of  chil 
dren  learn  of  themselves.  Never  a  lesson  on  the  natural 
and  scientific  retributions  which  the  God  of  nature  and 
revelation  has  implanted  in  humanity  is  taught  our  chil 
dren  ;  and  yet  there  is  not  one  violation  of  natural  laws 
but  has  its  penalty.  Crime,  in  all  its  forms,  has  its  own 
penalties  affixed  in  the  secret  alchemies  of  creation. 
These  penalties  cannot  be  evaded.  Violations  of  physrcal 
laws  are  followed  by  physical  ills.  Violations  of  moral 
law  have  penalties  of  moral  bearing.  These  penalties  are 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  301 

as  sure,  and  may  be  as  absolutely  depended  upon,  as  the 
fact  that  cold  follows  the  absence  of  the  sun,  or  heat 
accompanies  its  presence.  These  human  laws  and  penal 
ties  should  be  reduced  to  science  ;  and,  beginning  elemen 
tarily,  should  be  taught  in  every  school  of  our  intelligent 
land. 

With  our  church-spires  everywhere  pointing  heaven 
ward,  our  ministers  preaching  the  words  of  life,  our  Bibles 
lying  on  home-stands,  our  public  schools  where  our  children 
seek  the  streams  of  knowledge  free,  our  colleges,  libraries, 
printing-presses,  and  orators,  there  is  no  need  that  we  be 
overrun  by  asylums,  penitentiaries,  catastrophes  caused  by 
sin,  or  any  ignorance.  We  have  the  means  to  spread 
among  the  people  such  knowledge  as  will  preserve  them 
from  evil,  re-create  them,  and  bring  to  the  next  genera 
tions  pristine  strength  and  purity. 


302  BELLA : 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  GOD  pity  the  wretched  prisoners,  in  their  lonely  cells  to-day ! 
Whatc'er  the  sins  that  tripped  them,  God  pity  them  !  I  say. 
Only  a  strip  of  sunshine,  cleft  by  rusty  bars ; 
Only  a  patch  of  azure,  only  a  cluster  of  stars ; 
Only  a  barren  future  to  starve  their  hopes  upon ; 
Only  the  stinging  memories  of  a  past  that's  better  gone; 
Only  scorn  from  women,  only  hate  from  men  ; 
Only  remorse  to  whisper  of  a  life  that  might  have  been. 
Once  they  were  little  children  ;  perhaps  their  little  feet 
Were  led  by  a  gentle  mother  toward  the  golden  street. 
If,  therefore,  in  life's  forest,  they  since  have  lost  their  way, 
For  the  sake  of  her  who  loved  them,  God  pity  them !  I  say. 

And  you  who  judge  so  harshly, 

Are  you  sure  the  stumbling-stone 
That  tripped  the  feet  of  others 

Might  not  have  tripped  your  own  ? 
Are  you  sure  the  sad-faced  angel 

Who  writes  your  errors  down 
Will  give  to  you  more  honor 

Than  to  him  on  whom  you  frown  ? 

Or  if  a  steadier  purpose  unto  your  life  is  given,  — 

A  stronger  will  to  conquer,  a  smoother  path  to  heaven ; 

If,  when  temptations  meet  you,  you  crush  them  with  a  smile ; 

If  you  can  chain  pale  passions,  and  keep  your  lips  from  guile,  - 

Then  bless  the  hand  that  crowned  you,  remembering  as  you  go, 

'Twas  not  your  own  endeavor  that  shaped  your  nature  so; 

And  sneer  not  at  the  weakness  which  made  a  brother  fall, 

For  hands  that  lift  the  fallen  God  loves  the  best  of  all. 


OK,   THE  CEADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  303 

Oh  !  pray  for  the  wretched  prisoners, 

All  over  the  land  to-day, 
That  a  holy  hand  in  pity 

May  wipe  their  guilt  away." 


The  Rev.  E.  H.  Cbapin  says,  "  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten, 
crime  is  no  proof  of  special  depravity,  apart  from  general 
depravity ;  and  that  the  circumstances  have  just  so  much 
weight  as  this,  that,  put  you  or  me  in  just  those  same  cir 
cumstances,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  we  should  be  criminals 
too.  In  the  same  circumstances  involves  a  great  deal.  It 
involves  an  hereditary  taint  stamped  in  the  very  mould  of 
birth  ;  it  involves  physical  misery ;  it  involves  the  worst 
kind  of  social  influence  ;  it  involves  the  pressure  of  all  the 
natural  appetites,  rioting  in  the  need  of  the  body  and  this 
darkness  of  the  soul.  And  it  implies  no  suspicion  of  a 
man's  moral  standard,  it  is  no  insult  to  his  self-respect,  to 
tell  him,  that,  under  similar  conditions,  it  is  extremely  prob 
able  he  would  have  been  a  criminal  too.  Reasoning  in  an 
arm-chair  is  very  proper,  and  often  very  accurate  ;  but  the 
logic  of  starvation  is  too  peremptory  for  syllogisms.  We 
have  grown  up  in  pure  light  and  air,  appeased  with  the 
comforts,  and  braced  by  at  least  the  current  morality,  of  so 
ciety.  But  concerning  these  degraded  ones,  what  some 
call  '  charity'  is  no  more  than  'justice.'  It  is  no  more  than 
justice  to  say,  —  all  the  conditions  being  considered,  —  that, 
as  to  the  vast  majority  of  them,  crime  is  no  proof  of  special 
depravity.  It  is  the  genuine  humanity  that  is  there,  no 
base  metal.  It  came  from  the  common  mint :  somewhere 
you  will  find  upon  it  a  faint  scar  of  the  divine  im^ge ;  but 
the  coin  was  pitched  into  this  bonfire  of  appetite  and  blas 
phemy,  and  it  has  come  out  a  cinder.  God  made  them 
complete  souls,  and  stamped  his  image  upon  them  ;  but 
they  have  fallen  into  the  dark  and  dreary  ways  j  the  tierce 


304  BELLA  ; 

flames  have  hardened  them ;  the  foul  air  has  tainted  them ; 
and  their  special  depravity,  over  and  above  the  common 
depravity,  is  the  infection  of  circumstances." 

Thus  says  one  of  our  influential  clergymen.  But  what 
avails  it  for  our  learned  men  to  see  these  truths,  if  no  prac 
tical  results  are  to  follow  ?  If  criminals  are  still  to  feel  the 
execrations  of  mankind  binding  their  fetters  of  bondage, 
this  insight  into  the  causes  of  their  crimes  is  useless. 

Relevant  to  this  subject,  and  as  though  the  Lord  had 
sent  them  for  use  on  these  pages,  two  little  books  appear 
at  hand.  The  books  were  published  A.D.  1845.  They  were 
written  by  L.  Maria  Child,  and  entitled,  "  Letters  from 
New  York."  She  says,  "  I  was  once  visiting  a  friend  in 
prison  for  debt ;  and,  through  the  grated  windows,  I  could 
see  the  outside  of  the  criminals'  apartments.  On  the  stone 
ledges  beneath  their  windows  alighted  three  or  four  doves  ; 
and  hard  hands  were  thrust  out  between  the  iron  bars  to 
sprinkle  crumbs  for  them.  The  sight  brought  tears  to  my 
eyes.  Hearts  that  still  loved  to  feed  doves  must  certainly 
contain  somewhat  that  might  be  reached  by  the  voice  of 
kindness.  I  had  not  then  reasoned  on  the  subject ;  but  I 
felt,  even  then,  that  prisons  were  not  such  spiritual  hos 
pitals  as  ought  to  be  provided  for  erring  brothers.  .  .  . 

"  The  wisest  political  economy  lies  folded  up  in  the  max 
ims  of  Christ.  .  .  . 

"The  cure  for  all  the  ills  and  wrongs,  the  cares,  the 
sorrows,  and  the  crimes,  of  humanity,  all  lie  in  that  one 
word,  LOVE.  It  is  the  divine  vitality  that  everywhere  pro 
duces  and  restores  life.  To  each  and  every  one  of  us,  it 
gives  the  power  of  working  miracles  if  we  will.  .  .  . 
Even  the  poor,  despised  donkey  is  changed  by  love's 
magic  influence.  When  coerced  and  beaten,  he  is  vicious, 
obstinate,  and  stupid.  With  the  peasantry  of  Spain,  he  is 
a  petted  favorite,  almost  an  inmate  of  the  household.  The 


OR,    THE   CRADLE   OF   LIBERTY.  305 

children  bid  him  welcome  home,  and  the  wife  feeds  him 
from  her  hands.  He  knows  them  all,  and  he  loves  them 
all ;  for  he  feels  in  his  inmost  heart  that  they  love  him.  .  .  . 
The  beet  tamer  of  colts  that  was  ever  known  in  Massar 
chusetts  never  allowed  whip  or  spur  to  be  used ;  and  the 
horses  he  trained  never  needed  the  whip.  Their  spirits 
were  unbroken  by  severity,  and  they  obeyed  the  slightest 
impulse  of  the  voice  or  rein  with  the  most  animated 
promptitude ;  but  rendered  obedient  to  affection,  their  vi-. 
vacity  was  always  restrained  with  graceful  docility.  He 
said  it  was  with  horses  as  with  children  :  if  accustomed  to 
beating,  they  would  not  obey  without  it;  but  if  managed 
with  untiring  gentleness,  united  with  consistent  and  very 
equable  firmness,  the  victory  once  gained  over  them  was 
gained  forever. 

"  In  the  face  of  all  these  facts,  the  world  goes  on  manu 
facturing  whips,  spurs,  the  gallows,  and  chains ;  while  each 
one  carries  within  his  own  soul  a  divine  substitute  for  these 
Devil's  inventions,  with  which  he  might  work  miracles,  in 
ward  and  outward,  if  he  would.  Unto  this  end  let  us  work, 
with  unfaltering  faith.  Great  is  the  strength  of  an  indi 
vidual  soul,  true  to  its  high  trust,  —  mighty  is  it,  even  to 
the  redemption  of  a  world." 

Having  visited  Blackwell's  Island,  Mrs.  Child  says,  "  As 
I  looked  up  at  the  massive  walls  of  a  prison,  it  did  my 
heart  good  to  see  doves  nestling  within  the  shelter  of  the 
deep,  narrow,  grated  windows.  I  thought  what  blessed 
little  messengers  of  heaven  they  would  appear  to  me,  if 
I  were  in  prison ;  but  instantly  a  shadow  passed  over  the 
sunshine  of  my  thought.  Alas  !  doves  do  not  speak  to 
their  souls  as  they  do  to  mine  ;  for  they  have  lost  their  love 
for  gentle  and  childlike  things.  How  have  they  lost  it  ? 
Society,  with  its  unequal  distribution,  its  perverted  edu 
cation,  its  manifold  injustice,  its  cold  neglect,  its  biting 

26* 


306  BELLA  ; 

mockery,  has  taken  from  them  the  gifts  of  God.  They  are 
placed  here  in  the  midst  of  green  hills,  and  flowing  streams, 
and  cooing  doves,  after  the  heart  is  petrified  against  the 
genial  influence  of  such  sights  and  sounds. 

"  As  usual,  my  organ  of  justice  was  roused  into  great 
activity  hy  the  sight  of  prisoners.  '  Would  you  have  them 
prey  on  society? '  said  one  of  my  companions.  I  answered, 
'I  am  troubled  that  society  has  preyed  upon  tliein.  I  will 
enter  no  argument  ahout  the  right  of  society  to  punish 
these  sinners ;  but  I  say  she  made  them  sinners.  How 
much  I  have  done  towards  it,  by  yielding  to  popular  preju 
dice,  obeying  false  customs,  and  suppressing  vital  truths, 
I  know  not ;  but  doubtless  I  have  done,  and  am  doing,  my 
share.  God  forgive  me  !  If  he  dealt  with  us  as  we  deal 
with  our  brother,  who  could  stand  before  him  ?  .  .  . 

"'The  secrets  of  prisons,  so  far  as  they  are  revealed,  all 
tend  to  show  that  the  prevailing  feeling  of  criminals,  of  all 
grades,  is  that  they  are  wronged.  What  we  call  justice, 
they  regard  as  an  unlucky  chance ;  and  whosoever  looks 
calmly  and  wisely  into  the  foundations  on  which  society 
rolls  and  tumbles  (I  cannot  say  on  which  it  rests,  for  its 
foundations  heave  like  the  sea)  will  perceive  that  they  are 
victims  of  chance.  .  .  .  That  criminals  so  universal!}'  feel 
themselves  victims  of  injustice  is  one  strong  proof  that  it  is 
true  ;  for  impressions  entirely  without  foundation  are  not 
apt  to  become  universal.  If  society  does  make  its  own 
criminals,  how  shall  she  cease  to  do  it  ?  It  can  be  done 
only  by  a  change  in  the  structure  of  society,  that  will  dimin 
ish  the  temptations  to  vice,  and  increase  the  encourage 
ments  to  virtue.  ...  In  the  mean  time,  do  penitentiaries 
and  prisons  increase  or  diminish  the  evils  they  are  intended 
to  remedy  ? 

"  The  superintendent  at  Blackwell  told  me,  unasked,  that 
ten  year?-'  experience  had  convinced  him  that  the  whole  sys- 


OR,  THE  CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  307 

tern  tended  to  increase  crime.  He  said  of  the  lads  who 
came  there,  a  large  proportion  had  been  in  the  house  of 
refuge  ;  and  a  large  proportion  of  those  who  left  afterwards 
went  to  Sing  Sing.  '  It  is  as  regular  a  succession  as  the 
classes  in  a  college,'  said  he  ;  '  from  the  house  of  refuge  to 
the  penitentiary,  and  from  the  penitentiary  to  the  State 
prison.'  I  remarked  that  coercion  tended  to  rouse  all  the 
bad  passions  in  man's  nature,  and,  if  long  continued,  hard 
ened  the  whole  character.  '  I  know  that,'  said  he,  '  from 
my  own  experience.  All  the  devil  there  is  in  me  rises  up 
when  a  man  attempts  to  compel  me.  But  what  can  I  do  ? 
I  am  obliged  to  be  very  strict.  When  my  feelings  tempt 
rue  to  unusual  indulgence,  a  bad  use  is  almost  always  made 
of  it.  I  see  that  the  system  fails  to  produce  the  effect  in 
tended  ;  but  I  cannot  change  the  result.' 

"  I  felt  that  his  words  were  true.  He  could  not  change 
the  influence  of  the  system  while  he  discharged  the  duties  of 
his  office ;  for  the  same  reason  that  a  man  cannot  be  at  once 
a  slavedriver  and  missionary  on  a  plantation.  I  allude  to 
the  necessities  of  the  office,  and  do  not  mean  to  imply  that 
the  character  of  the  individual  was  severe.  .  .  .  The  world 
would  be  in  a  happier  condition  if  legislators  spent  half  as 
much  time  and  labor  to  prevent  crime,  as  they  do  to  punish 
it.  The  poor  need  houses  of  encouragement,  and  society 
gives  them  houses  of  correction.  Benevolent  institutions 
and  reformatory  societies  perform  but  a  limited  and  tempo 
rary  use.  They  do  not  reach  the  ground-work  of  evil ;  and 
it  is  reproduced  too  rapidly  for  them  to  keep  even  the  sur 
face  healed.  The  natural,  spontaneous  influence  of  society 
should  be  such  as  to  supply  men  with  healthy  motives,  and 
give  full,  free  play  to  the  affections  and  the  faculties.  .  .  . 
I  by  no  means  underrate  modern  improvements  in  the  dis 
cipline  of  prisons,  or  progressive  meliorations  in  the  crimi 
nal  code;  I  rejoice  in  these  things  as  facts,  and  still  more 


308  BELLA ; 

as  prophecy.  Strong  as  my  faith  is  that  the  time  will  come 
when  war  and  prisons  will  both  cease  from  the  face  of  the 
earth,  I  am  by  no  means  blind  to  the  great  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  those  who  are  honestly  striving  to  make  the  best 
of  tilings  as  they  are.  Violations  of  right,  continued  gener 
ation  after  generation,  and  interwoven  into  the  whole 
structure  of  action  and  opinion,  will  continue  troublesome 
and  injurious,  even  for  a  long  time  after  they  are  outwardly 
removed.  Legislators  and  philanthropists  may  well  be  puz 
zled  to  know  what  to  do  with  those  who  have  become  hard 
ened  in  crime.  Meanwhile,  the  highest  wisdom  should 
busy  itself  with  the  more  important  questions,  How  did 
these  men  become  criminals  ?  Are  not  social  influences 
largely  at  fault  ?  If  society  is  the  criminal,  were  it  not  well 
to  reform  society  ? 

"  It  is  common  to  treat  the  inmates  of  penitentiaries  and 
prisons  as  if  they  were  altogether  unlike  ourselves,  as  if 
they  belong  to  another  race  ;  but  this  indicates  superficial 
thought  and  feeling.  The  passions  which  carried  those 
men  to  prison  exist  in  your  own  bosom,  and  have  been 
gratified,  only  in  a  less  degree ;  perchance,  if  you  look  in 
ward  with  enlightened  self-knowledge,  you  will  perceive 
that  there  have  been  periods  in  your  own  life,  when  a  hair's 
breadth  farther  in  the  wrong  would  have  rendered  you 
amenable  to  human  laws  ;  and  that  you  were  prevented 
from  moving  over  that  hair's-breadth  boundary  by  outward 
circumstances,  for  which  you  deserve  no  credit. 

...  "I  have  not  been  happy  since  that  visit  to  Black- 
well's  Island.  There  is  something  painful,  yea,  terrific,  in 
feeling  myself  involved  in  the  great  wheel  of  society,  -which 
goes  whirling  on,  crushing  thousands  at  every  turn.  This 
relation  of  the  individual  to  the  mass  is  the  sternest  and 
most  frightful  of  all  the  conflicts  between  necessity  and 
free-will.  Yet  here,  too,  conflict  should  be  harmony,  and 
will  be  so. 


OR,   THE  CRADLE   OP  LIBERTY.  309 

"  Believe  me,  the  great  panacea  for  all  the  disorders  ia. 
the  universe  is  love.  For  thousands  of  years,  the  world 
has  gone  on  perversely,  trying  to  overcome  evil  with  evil, 
with  the  worst  results,  as  the  condition  of  things  plainly 
testifies.  Nearly  two  thousand  years  ago,  the  prophet  of 
the  Highest  proclaimed  that  evil  could  be  overcome  only 
with  good.  But  when  the  Son  of  man  cometh,  shall  he  find 
faith  on  the  earth  ?  If  we  have  faith  in  this  holy  princi 
ple,  where  shall  we  find  it,  on  our  laws  or  our  customs  ? 

"  Write  it  on  thine  own  life,  and  men  reading  it  shall 
say,  '  Lo,  something  greater  than  vengeance  is  here,  a  power 
mightier  than  coercion  ! '  And  then  individual  faith  shall 
become  a  social  faith  ;  and  to  the  mountains  of  crime  around 
us,  it  will  say,  '  Be  thou  removed,  and  be  thou  cast  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea  ! '  And  they  will  be  removed,  and  the  places 
that  knew  them  shall  know  them  no  more. 

..."  A  society  has  lately  been  organized  here  for  the 
reform  of  prisons  and  their  inmates.  Their  first  object  is 
to  introduce  into  our  prisons  such  a  mode  of  discipline  as  is 
best  calculated  to  reform  criminals,  by  stimulating  and  en 
couraging  what  remains  of  good  within  them,  while  they 
are  at  the  same  time  kept  under  strict  regulations,  and 
guided  by  a  firm  hand.  Their  next  object  is  to  render  to 
discharged  convicts  such  assistance  as  will  be  most  likely  to 
guide  them  into  paths  of  sober  and  successful  industry. 

"John  W.  Edmonds,  President  of  the  Board  of  Inspec 
tors  at  Sing-Sing  Prison,  pleaded  for  the  benevolent  objects 
of  the  institution  with  real  earnestness  of  heart ;  and  brought 
forward  abundant  statistics,  carefully  prepared,  to  show  the 
need  of  such  an  association,  and  to  prove  that  crime  always 
diminishes  in  proportion  to  the  amelioration  of  the  laws. 
He  urged  the  alarming  fact,  that  from  two  hundred  to  two 
hundred  and  fifty  convicts  a  year  from  Sing  Sing  were 
returned  upon  society,  nearly  without  money,  without 


310  BELLA ; 

friends  (except  among  the  vicious),  without  character,  and 
nearly  without  employment.  .  .  .  Poor,  unfriended,  dis 
couraged,  and  despised,  in  a  state  of  hostility  with  the  world, 
which  often  has,  in  reality,  done  them  more  grievous  wrong 
than  they  have  done  the  world,  how  terribly  powerful  must 
be  the  temptation  to  new  crimes  !  .  .  .  He  said  he  had  no 
faith  whatever  in  the  system  of  violence  which  had  so  long 
prevailed  in  the  world,  —  the  system  of  tormenting  criminals 
into  what  was  called  good  order,  and  of  never  appealing  to 
any  thing  better  than  the  sentiment  of  fear.  ...  Of  late 
there  has  been  a  gradual  amelioration  of  discipline  at  Sing 
Sing.  Three  thousand  lashes,  with  a  cat-of-nine  tails,  used 
to  be  inflicted  in  the  course  of  a  month  ;  now  there  is  not  as 
many  hundred ;  and  the  conviction  is  constantly  growing 
stronger,  that  it  will  be  wisest,  as  a  mere  matter  of  policy,  to 
dispense  with  corporeal  punishment  altogether." 

Let  us  pause  ! 

That  statement  takes  away  one's  breath.  How  can  the 
pen  write  it,  or  the  soul  think  of  it  ?  Yet  we  must.  We 
must  think;  and  not  only  think,  but  write  and  talk;  and 
not  only  that,  but  we  must  act.  We  must  "  act  in  the  liv 
ing  present,  truth  within,  and  God  o'erhead." 

Three  thousand  lashes  with  a  cat-of-nine  tails  in  a 
month  !  Three  thousand ! 

This  on  the  soil  of  the  United  States  !  And  the  men 
who  inflicted  the  lashes  were  not  called  lunatics  !  And  the 
government  that  countenanced  such  things  is  not  called 
insane,  but  is  supposed  to  be  a  rational  government !  Nay, 
more,  it  is  held  up  before  the  whole  world  as  the  star  of  the 
earth !  And  the  nation  is  full  of  professing  Christians  ! 
All  over  it  are  people  singing  "  that  sweet  story  of  old,  when 
Jesus  was  here  among  men." 

Was  this  Jesus'  method  for  healing  sin  ?  Does  he  tell 
us  to  cure  sin-sick  souls  in  this  way  ?  Does  he  advise  us  to 


.  OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  311 

turn  upon  these  unhappy  people,  and  thrash  them,  and 
scourge  them,  and  lock  them  up  under  the  caprices  of  hired 
keepers  ?  It  is  not  done  by  his  instructions. 

How  then  ?  Does  common  sense,  or  experience,  teach 
us  that  harsh  punishments,  vindictive  retributions,  and  un- 
forgiveness,  whether  by  individuals  or  government,  are 
promoters  of  civilization,  good-will,  and  peace  ?  It  seems 
rather  that  love,  just  such  broad,  true,  forgiving  love  as  was 
in  our  Saviour,  is  a  better  civilizer  than  whips,  gallows, 
penitentiaries,  guillotines,  and  dungeons.  Love,  under  the 
guidance  of  intelligence,  is  the  great  civilizer  of  mankind. 
It  spreads  over  the  lands,  and  touches  hearts  with  new  emo 
tions.  It  reaches  frontiers,  and  the  barbarians  subside 
before  its  power ;  it  speaks  to  the  masses,  and  wickedness 
flees  from  its  presence  ;  it  whispers,  and  ignorance  perishes. 
Intelligent  love  is  the  world's  reformer.  Prisons  are  the 
insignia  of  barbarism. 

Since  our  public  men  are  fond  of  going  to  Europe  to 
study  the  best  systems  of  asylum  and  prison  management, 
let  us  introduce  here  an  incident  in  one  of  their  institutions. 
The  revelations  made  by  one  of  the  women  after  her  release 
from  a  Continental  prison  led  to  an  official  investigation. 
She  showed  the  investigating  officials  the  indelible  marks 
of  innumerable  floggings  which  she  had  received  from  Louis 
Bassewitz,  and  his  mistress,  Louisa  Rasch,  the  matron  of 
the  female  department.  Not  only  have  men  been  flogged 
there,  and  subjected  to  all  sorts  of  tortures,  worthy  of  the 
fiendish  ingenuity  of  an  Apache  chief,  but  delicate  women 
have  been  whipped  upon  the  most  futile  pretexts.  Such 
was  the  terror  which  the  threats  of  Bassewitz  and  Mine. 
Easch  struck  into  the  hearts  of  the  poor  victims,  that  few  or 
none  of  them  ventured  to  prefer  complaints  against  their  in 
human  tormentors.  Painful  as  were  the  floggings  by.  Bass 
ewitz,  the  suffering  caused  thereby  was  slight  in  comparison 


312  BELLA  ; 

with  the  exquisite  torture  of  the  rod  with  which  Mme. 
Kasch  frequently  belabored  the  bare  limbs  of  the  prisoners 
upon  the  most  insignificant  violations  of  the  rigid  prison 
discipline.  The  rod  itself  was  nearly  four  pounds  hi  weight, 
and  consisted  of  innumerable  small  birch  twigs,  held  together 
by  an  iron  band.  Mme.  Rasch,  a  powerful  woman,  had 
often  given  her  female  victims  fifty  strokes  with  this  terri 
ble  rod;  and  when  the  indescribable  pain,  as  the  rod  de 
scended  on  their  bare  hips,  irresistibly  wrested  agonizing 
screams  from  them,  the  severity  of  the  punishment  was 
increased  by  the  harridan,  who  seemed  to  be  infuriated  by 
the  cries  of  the  helpless  sufferers.  One  of  the  witnesses 
before  the  officials  testified  as  follows  :  "  Had  I  not  been 
upheld  by  the  sense  of  my  innocence,  and  the  stern  desire 
to  avenge  my  wrongs  by  bringing  to  justice  that  man  and 
matron,  I  would  have  dashed  my  brains  out  after  being  four 
or  five  hours  within  the  walls  of  the  prison.  I  was  sent 
there  for  one  year  on  a  charge  of  larceny,  which  has  since 
been  proved  to  be  entirely  without  foundation.  After  my 
arrival,  I  was  immediately  turned  over  to  Mme.  Rasch.  who 
pushed  me  into  a  small,  dark  room,  in  the  middle  of  which 
stood  a  curiously-shaped  wooden  arm-chair.  She  rudely 
pressed  me  into  it,  and,  with  leather  straps,  fastened  ray 
arms  and  legs  to  it.  I  was  so  frightened  that  my  heart 
beat  audibly.  She  then  pulled  my  hair  down,  and  did  it  so 
carelessly  that  she  hurt  me.  I  uttered  a  faint  cry,  where 
upon  she  struck  me  in  the  face.  I  may  have  struggled  a 
bit  to  free  my  hands  :  this  seemed  to  enrage  the  matron 
greatly.  She  almost  hissed  out,  '  Wait,  you  hussy,  you 
shall  catch  it  for  this.'  She  then  quietly  cut  off  my  hair 
till  my  head  was  almost  bald.  I  could  not  help  crying. 
She  then  ordered  me  to  strip  off  my  clothes  ;  and,  when  I 
had  done  so,  she  suddenly  pushed  me  towards  a  door  covered 
with  a  linen  curtain.  It  was  the  bath-room  ;  and  I  fell  hard 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  313 

into  the  cold  water,  hurting  myself  severely  against  the 
wooden  steps.  The  matron  then  pulled  me  out  of  the  bath, 
and  rubbed  me  off  with  a  coarse  hempen  towel.  Without 
saying  a  word,  she  pushed  me  to  the  wall,  and  fastened  my 
hands  and  my  feet  in  two  iron  rings  in  the  wall  and  floor. 
I  was  petrified  with  terror,  not  knowing  what  was  in  store 
for  me.  I  was  shivering  with  cold,  my  skin  having  been 
but  partially  dried.  Mine.  Raseh  went  into  an  adjoining 
room,  and  returned  with  that  rod.  Before  I  recovered  myself 
from  the  fear  with  which  that  terrible  instrument  filled  me, 
the  matron  began  beating  me  with  it  on  the  back  and  on 
the  hips.  Oh  !  I  never  experienced  such  dreadful  pain  in  my 
life ;  and  I  broke  into  loud  cries  of  despair,  but  she  did  not 
desist.  My  agony  seemed  to  lend  additional  strength  to 
her  arms ;  and  I  fainted  away,  unable  to  bear  the  torture. 
How  long  she  beat  me  after  I  fell  into  a  swoon,  I  cannot 
tell.  When  I  awoke,  I  was  dripping  wet.  The  matron 
had  thrown  a  pail  of  cold  water  over  me.  I  was  almost 
delirious  when  she  began  to  rub  my  smarting  skin  anew 
with  the  coarse  towel,  and  I  cried  again ;  but  the  fierce 
threat  of  further  birching  silenced  my  voice.  The  matron 
said,  that,  having  shown  so  obstreperous  a  spirit,  she  would 
lock  me  up  for  twenty-four  hours  in  the  dark  cell.  After  I 
had  put  on  the  prison  garb,  she  hustled  me  into  an  abso 
lutely  dark  hole,  where  I  sank  down  in  utter  exhaustion  on 
wet  and  mouldy  straw.  Next  morning  Mme.  Rasch 
brought  me  a  tin-cup  of  water  and  a  slice  of  stale  brown- 
bread.  I  was  so  sick  that  I  was  unable  to  'eat.  I  could 
hardly  stir.  In  the  evening  I  was  taken  to  my  regular 
cell,  and  fell  into  a  fever.  I  tried  to  tell  the  doctor  how  I 
had  been  treated.  He  ordered  me  to  shut  my  mouth,  and 
said,  that,  in  case  I  should  manifest  still  further  a  refractory 
spirit,  I  would  be  disciplined  again. 

"Altogether  I  was  seven  months  in  the  prison,  and  dur- 
27 


314  BELLA  ; 

ing  that  time  received  the  rod  eighteen  times.  I  was  a 
prey  to  such  despair,  that  I  often  begged  the  matron  on  my 
bended  knees  not  to  torture  me  any  more,  as  I  was  not 
strong  enough  to  bear  so  much  punishment ;  but  she 
birched  me  only  the  more  frequently.  One  day,  in  my 
misery,  I  began  to  cry  and  sob,  when  Bassewitz  whipped 
me  cruelly  with  a  rattan.  I  told  the  doctor  this,  and  he 
remonstrated  with  the  warden ;  whereupon  Bassewitz  re 
peated  the  infliction.  Many  other  women  in  the  prison 
were  treated  with  equal  barbarity.  Every  morning,  I  heard, 
with  a  shudder,  the  screams  of  the  girls  as  they  were 
birched." 

This  was  on  a  continent  where  bastiles  and  dungeons 
have  long  had  sway ;  but  we  are  not  far  behind  in  prison 
discipline.  Who  supposes  that  "  three  thousand  lashes 
with  a  cat-of-nine  tails  "  could  be  inflicted  without  swooning 
and  agonizing  misery  on  the  part  of  the  victims,  such  as  is 
fearful  even  to  the  thoughts  ?  Whatever  the  crimes  for 
which  they  were  imprisoned,  these  crimes  against  them  in 
their  helplessness  are  greater.  Their  crimes  were  com 
mitted  under  temptations,  and  passion's  besetting  allure 
ments  ;  but  these  crimes  against  them  are  done  in  cool 
blood,  in  hidden  situations,  where  they  are  powerless  to 
shield  themselves  from  the  tempers  of  their  assailants,  who 
often  become  infuriated  like  Mme.  E-asch,  and,  like  people 
drunk  with  personal  power,  go  on  in  these  hidden  cruelties. 

That  American  people  are  not  far  behind  the  Europeans, 
we  should  soon  learn  it'  we  lifted  the  curtain  of  silence  from 
these  up-ground,  living  tombs.  Under  date  of  June  24, 
1873,  a  writer  in  one  of  our  dailies  says,  "  Editor  of  the 

.  Will  you  allow  me  to  say  through  the  columns  of 

your  widely-circulated  paper,  that  the  most  cruel  murders 
ever  committed  in  America  have  been  committed  in  our 
jails  and  prisons;  viz.,  Death  in  the  shower-bath;  death 


OE,  THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  315 

at  the  wliipp ing-post ;  frosted  feet  while  in  the  punish 
ment  cell,  amputation,  and  a  lingering  death  following. 
Some  of  the  punishments  inflicted  on  prisoners  are  of  the 
most  degrading  character.  I  have  had  large  experience  as 
a  prison  officer.  At  no  time,  and  under  no  circumstances, 
have  I  known  the  law  of  kindness  to  fail,  when  properly 
administered  to  prisoners.  I  never  fail.  God's  loving  kind 
ness  is  ever  faithful,  ever  sure.  I  have  known  prison 
officers  to  be  killed  by  prisoners.  In  justice  to  the  great  and 
holy  law  of  kindness,  I  can  say  that  I  have  never  known  a 
prison  officer  to  be  killed  by  a  sane  prisoner  where  said 
officer  had  not  inflicted  on  said  prisoner  wicked,  cruel,  and 
unnecessary  punishment.  I  have  had  some  fifteen  years' 
experience  as  a  prison  officer,  having  at  one  time  six  hun 
dred  and  fifty  convicted  felons  under  my  charge,  and  have 
never  carried  a  pistol  or  weapon  of  any  kind  for  one  single 
hour  when  in  charge  of  prisoners,  and  have  never  had  cause 
to  use  one.  No  prisoner  has  ever  resisted  me,  or  attempted 
to,  witli  force.  No  class  of  persons  in  our  nation  require  the 
attention  of  the  Christian  community  more  than  our  pris 
oners  do." 

In  this  brief  letter,  there  is  much  food  for  thought.  He 
says,  "  the  law  of  kindness,  when  properly  administered." 
We  who  have  lived  in  asylums  can  understand  that  phrase ; 
for  kindness  in  these  places,  from  attendants  and  keepers, 
rests  on  a  basis  entirely  unlike  kindness  in  the  outer  world, 
and  is  usually  so  administered  as  to  give  the  patient-prison 
ers  a  sense  of  degradation  that  never  leaves  him,  and  never 
will. 

The  above  letter  on  prison  discipline  was  not  written  in 
Europe,  nor  thirty  years  ago  in  Sing  Sing ;  but  is  a  thing 
of  to-day,  progressing  at  this  moment  on  American  soil. 
And  the  wail  of  the  prisoners  goes  up  as  a  discord  in  the 
ears  of  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth,  who  has  blessed  our  people 
beyond  other  nations. 


316  BELLA  ; 

Before  any  radical  changes  can  be  rna'de  in  the  inner 
lives  of  prisoners,  either  penal  or  medical,  there  must  be 
radical  changes  in  the  ^dispositions  of  those  who-  supervise 
and  rule  these  inner  departments.  The  cupidity  of  the 
officers,  and  the  tempers  of  the  attendants  and  keepers,  are 
the  great  obstacles  to  ameliorations.  Of  this  reformers  and 
philanthropists  take  little  heed.  They  meet  and  "string 
out"  the  most  beautiful  resolutions;  but  who  is  to  execute 
the  resolutions  ?  Angels  should  come  down  and  do  it ;  for 
men's  tempers  will  not  be  suitable. 

What  shall  we  do,  then  ?  Shall  we  let  crime  go  unpun 
ished,  and  lawlessness  be  free?  We  answer,  that  God  in 
nature  has  established  penalties  for  crime.  It  is  our  duty 
to  instruct  the  people,  and  the  children  everywhere,  in  the 
natures  of  the  penalties,  and  to  train  the  intelligent  world 
to  prevent  crime  and  lawlessness. 

Prison  discipline,  model  it  as  we  may,  can  never  be  a 
missionary  of  the  cross  to  thinking  people.  It  holds  a 
scourge  in  one  hand,  and  the  gospel  in  the  other.  It 
coerces  and  forces  people  to  goodness  ;  but  such  goodness  is 
never  the  real  goodness,  nor.  is  this  Christ's  method  for 
reformations.  Something  better,  deeper,  broader,  more 
suited  to  the  needs  of  souls  diseased,  must  supersede  this 
mode  of  punishment,  or  crime  will  ride  more  rampant,  and 
evil  prove  more  destructive.  We  should  see  that  crime  is 
disease,  to  be  healed  by  science  and  care. 

By  present  customs,  insanity  and  crime  are  treated  on 
similar  principles.  And,  indeed,  they  are  naturally  related. 
Both  are  the  result  of  perturbed  mental  faculties ;  and, 
though  insanity  is  not  necessarily  criminal,  all  crime  is,  in 
some  degree,  insanity.  The  causes  of  these  perturbations 
lie  deep  in  the  natures  of  people. 

The  crimes  within  prisons,  there  committed  against  pris 
oners,  are  not  known  to  the  world ;  for  prison  overseers  do 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  317 

not  report  themselves,  and  the  sufferers  are  withheld  from 
reporting  by  various  reasons.  If  now  and  then  a  case  of 
tyranny  finds  its  way  out,  people  read  of  it,  and  pass  it  by 
as  a  thing  of  no  moment ;  or  a  meeting  for  prison  reform 
follows,  speeches  are  made,  and  a  few  resolutions  adopted. 
These  are  printed,  and  there  is  the  end.  The  hateful  tem 
pers  within  the  walls  are  not  uprooted.  The  system  is  not 
cleansed.  A  few  poisonous  qualities  may  be  disturbed,  but 
only  to  settle  back  into  new  combinations  ;  and  still  the 
prisons  flourish,  the  innocent  and  guilty  suffering  together, 
and  often  suffering  equally,  by  our  practices. 

There  came  one  day,  when  the  sun  was  shining  gladly, 
and  the  earth  was  gloriously  enrobed,  a  tall,  strong  officer 
of  the  law  to  the  door  of  one  of  our  Christian  asylums. 
He  bore  in  his  arms  a  delicate,  innocent  girl.  She  was 
bound  in  iron  shackles,  and  handcuffs  were  on  her  wrists. 
He  sat  her  down  in  the  public  hall  of  the  asylum.  People 
gathered  around  her  staring.  The  frightened  girl  looked 
at  her  wrists  bound  tightly  together ;  and  her  fingers  con 
vulsed  in  agony,  while  tears  rolled  from  her  face  in  streams. 
"  What  is  this  ? "  she  cried.  "  What  is  this  you  have 
done  to  me  ?  Why  have  you  disgraced  me  so  ?  0  God, 
my  Father  !  what  is  this  has  come  to  me  ?  "  And  the  peo 
ple  stood  by  indifferently,  caring  nothing  for  her  agony  ;  for 
was  not  it  an  insane  asylum,  and  was  not  she  a  patient  ? 
It  was  only  a  variation  in  the  scale  of  commitments  ;  one  of 
those  variations  in  which  force  was  employed  instead  of 
deception.  The  greatest  felon  in  the  country  would  not 
have  been  carried  to  prison  in  a  more  ignominious  manner 
than  was  this  innocent  Massachusetts  girl. 

There  went  up  the  asylum  inner  stairs  one  day  a  pale 

young  man.     His  hands  were  tied,  and  a  handkerchief  was 

bound  about  his  face.     On  his  way  up,  hidden  there  from 

outward  eyes,  he  was  kicked,  cursed,  thumped,  and  pulled, 

27* 


318  BELLA ; 

till  it  would  seem  that  the  poor  young  man  must  be  stunned 
and  dazed  beyond  recovery,  ere  he  could  reach  the  hall  where 
he  was  to  be  still  further  abused.  A  looker-on  remarked, 
"  He  must  be  a  fearful  criminal."  Lo  !  a  few  days  after 
there  came  a  bowed  old  man,  and  asked  to  see  his  son.  "  He 
was  a  good  lad,"  said  the  grief-stricken  father ;  "  and  I 
couldna'  bear  to  have  him  brought  away  from  me  ;  but  the 
doctor  said  'twas  best.  Ye'll  be  good  to  him,  will  na'  ye  ?  " 

So  then  it  came  out  that  he  who  was  kicked  up  the  stairs, 
and  forced  into  prison  by  merciless  hands,  was  no  felon,  but 
"  a  good  lad,"  and  sent  from  a  kind  home  by  medical  advice, 
to  be  "  treated  "  for  mental  disease  !  A  convict  could  not 
have  fared  worse  !  We  who  have  seen  these  things  with 
our  own  eyes  feel  justified  in  saying,  that,  in  our  country, 
the  innocent  and  guilty  are  treated  alike  in  our  prisons. 
Insanity  and  crime  are  placed  on  one  stand.  Prisons  for 
both  are  uprising  on  every  hand,  reared  for  coming  genera 
tions.  Between  prisons  for  criminals,  and  asylums  for  the 
insane,  few  families  are  safe  from  supplying  victims  for 
imprisonment. 

"  But,"  says  the  world,  "  these  imprisonments  are  neces 
sary.  The  guilty  must  be  shut  up ;  and  the  insane  are  not 
safe  abroad." 

On  this  reasoning  people  rest,  while  acts  of  fearful  injus 
tice  are  continually  transpiring  amongst  us. 

Not  only  are  insane  people  treated  like  criminals  during 
imprisonment,  but  also  on  the  way  thither,  and  in  the 
methods  of  first  taking  them.  The  police  and  law  officers 
handle  them  as  roughly  as  if  they  were  convicted  felons. 
A  man,  a  good  husband  and  father,  was  taken  from  his 
bed  by  police  force,  and  transported  to  an  asylum,  for  cure. 
He  was  a  man  of  spotless  integrity,  and  irreproachable  life, 
fallen  ill  because  of  his  deep  love  for  his  fainjly,  and  over- 
exertiou  in  business  for  their  sakes.  Such  a  cause  for  ill- 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF   LIBERTY.  319 

ness  should  have  entitled  him  to  the  utmost  tenderness ; 
and,  whether  his  illness  disturbed  his  bodily  or  mental  fac 
ulties,  his  physicians  should  have  censidered  the  cause,  and 
his  worth  as  a  man  of  truth  and  honor,  and  should  have 
treated  him  with  the  utmost  care  medically,  and  with  the 
highest  respect  as  a  man.  Instead  of  that,  they  ordered 
him  to  an  asylum.  He  went,  as  a  criminal  goes.  The  two 
policemen  treated  him  as  coarsely,  and  with  as  little  civility, 
as  they  would  have  treated  a  thief  or  drunkard.  When 
they  wanted  to  pause  for  an  hour,  they  locked  him  up.  At 
night  they  threw  him  into  a  small  out-house,  where  there 
was  only  a  board  ;  and  on  that  board,  bare  of  comforts  or 
necessaries,  they  left  him,  under  lock  and  key ;  and  he  had 
not  even  a  pillow  for  his  tired  head.  What  right  has  a 
physician  to  consign  an  honorable  man  to  such  a  fate  ? 
And  who  shall  say  that  the  insane  and  criminals  are  not 
treated  alike  ? 

It  is  said  that  the  present  condition  of  the  insane  is 
better  than  the  former,  when  they  were  shut  up  in  attics 
and  cages,  and  kept  in  miserable  conditions.  It  is  also  said 
that  criminals  are  treated  with  more  humanity  than  for 
merly.  If  we  have  made  advances,  let  us  thank  God,  and 
stride  on  in  the  work  of  reform.  Let  us  take  broader  views 
of  humanity,  seeing  that  it  is  the  highest  work  of  God  on 
earth,  being  part  and  parcel  of  his  essence,  made  and  fitted 
to  move  in  him  forever,  in  glory  and  freedom  and  seraphic 
universal  love.  Let  us  not  suppose  that  intelligent  beings, 
by  being  shut  into  solitude,  can  improve,  either  morally  or 
physically ;  nor  that  society  is  thus  rendered  safe,  seeing 
that  the  seeds  of  crime  and  other  diseases  are  left  outside 
to  germinate  and  grow. 


320 


BELLA 


nature. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

NATURALIST  placed  upon  his  desk  two  germs, 
and  over  them  he  held  a  glass  of  immense  magnify 
ing  power.  He  wanted  to  read  those  germs,  and  to 
discover  what  the  Invisible  was  doing  in  them. 
He  had  already  read  many  marvellous  works  of 
He  had  read  nature  itself.  He  had  learned  that 
the  whole  universe,  from  the  largest  boundary  to  the  small 
est  microscopic  atom,  is  as  an  egg.  From  the  globules  of 
mist,  up  to  the  spheroidal  earth,  and  to  the  distant  and  still 
larger  spheroids,  all  is  as  an  egg,  —  an  egg  within  an  egg  ; 
all  full  of  life  and  law  and  glory  and  God.  He  had 
studied  and  thought  of  the  earth  in  its  vast  circumference ; 
with  its  heaving  centre  of  fire  ;  its  melted,  glowing  rocks ;  its 
metals  and  varied  secretions ;  its  broad  expanse  of  "billowy 
foam  ;  its  motions,  winds,  and  tides;  its  glory  in  light ;  its  re 
sistless,  onward  course  ;  its  moving  among,  and  mingling 
with,  other  earths;  and  his  soul  filled  with  the  wonders  of 
.that  power,  that,  over  all,  in  all,  and  through  all,  held  the 
mighty  reins,  and  guided  the  whole,  clothing  himself  with 
his  works. as  he  would  wrap  about  him  the  "  drapery  of 
di'eams." 

The  soul  of  the  naturalist  grew  larger  ;  and,  as  it  expanded, 
he  sought  to  know  yet  more  of  his  mother  earth.  He  ex 
tended  and  deepened  his  researches ;  and  behold !  he  still 
found  all  things  as  eggs,  and  in  all  was  life.  Everywhere 
was  life,  expanding,  growing,  bursting,  its  forms  decaying, 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  321 

but  still  renewing.  And  this  life  was  God.  It  was  the 
principle  of  creation,  the  light  of  the  world. 

The  naturalist  examined  the  productions  of  the  earth.  He 
studied  the  blades  of  grass,  flowers  with  their  dusty  pollens, 
fruit,  shrubs,  weeds,  animals  of  all  kinds,  and  even  the 
depths  so  wondrous,  and  behold  !  all  were  rich  with  life's 
rich  eggs,  joined  in  wonderful  cohesion,  with  God-life  mov 
ing  in  their  midst. 

The  naturalist  could  not  see  God.  He  could  not  see  the 
life  ;  but  he  could  see  the  works  of  life,  which  are  the  works 
of  God.  He  could  feel  life  within  himself,  and  he  knew  it 
was  God  animating  his  existence.  He  knew  the  same  God 
was  in  all  living  organizations ;  giving  them  life,  animation, 
and  reproducing  seed. 

Then  he  stood  up  reverently;  and,  glowing  with  wonder, 
he  stretched  out  his  arms,  and  said,  "  What !  Am  I,  too, 
but  an  egg?  Am  I  made  up  of  eggs  within  eggs  ?  Am  I 
so  full  of  life?  Have  I,  within  me,  life  that  I  cannot  see, 
life  intense,  whose  particles  are  beyond  my  microscopic 
power,  beyond  the  power  of  any  mortal  vision,  more  subtle 
than  any  other  power,  yea,  able  to  rule  all  other  powers  ? 
Am  I  but  clothing  for  this  power  ?  Then  do  I  belong  to 
it,  to  him !  My  hands,  my  limbs,  my  globular  eyes  with 
which  I  see,  my  soul,  my  body,  the  life  within  me,  all  are 
his !  Nay,  I  am  all  his  !  Let  me  pause  and  worship  !  In  all 
things  I  see  his  works,  and  everywhere  they  are  life.  Life, 
falling  away  and  reproducing,  forever  in  motion,  moved  by 
rule,  and  by  laws  fixed  and  firm,  is  God !  And  all  these 
works  are  but  as  eggs !  Let  me  go  out  and  worship  !  I 
will' cover  my  head  here  in  his  presence ;  and  I  will  go  out 
to  adore  ! " 

Then,  reverently  placing  on  his  head  his  wonted  hat,  he 
went  out  —  out  —  farther  and  farther  through  the  fields, 
looking  earnestly  at  all  the  wonders  he  had  passed  a  life- 


BELLA  ; 

time  without  truly  seeing.  Now  he  saw  them  in  a  new 
aspect;  for  a  new  light  had  broken  into  his  mind,  and  the 
mirror  in  which  all  these  creations  were  reflected  was  a  God- 
given  thought  within  himself.  The  friends  and  servants 
accompanying  him,  seeing  him  so  absorbed,  dared  not  even 
speak.  So  they  went  on  till  they  reached  the  mountains. 
There  the  naturalist  paused ;  and  looking  about  him,  at 
the  slopes  ascending,  the  fields  waving  with  green,  the 
wooded  heights,  the  valleys  with  their  flowing  streams,  and 
the  white  peaks  beyond  ascending  to  the  clouds,  he  turned 
his  gaze  abroad,  and  his  soul  swelled  with  wonder.  Then 
he  stooped;  and,  picking  up  a  piece  of  moss,  he  began  look 
ing  at  it,  turning  it  from  side  to  side,  and  peering  at  its 
fantastic  particles,  as  thdugh  some  hidden  treasure  lay 
within.  His  servant,  alarmed,  approached  him,  hat  in 
hand,  and,  bowing  respectfully,  said,  "Master,  what  aileth 
thee  ?  Art  thou  mad  ?  What  seest  thou  in  that  twig  ?  " 

"  God  !  "  said  the  man,  and  placed  it  in  his  coat  breast 
button-hole. 

Then,  girding  up  his  strength,  he  led  the  way  up  the 
ascent.  On  and  on  he  went,  up  and  up,  across  ravines, 
through  woods,  through  ferns,  through  tangled  bushes, 
across  high  rocks,  up  where  the  free  air  played  in  whirl 
winds,  where  the  eagle  screamed,  the  high  rocks  piled,  and 
the  "cavernous  roars  on  every  side  seemed  full  of  spirits 
playing  with  the  old  bards.  Here  the  Unseen  seemed  visi 
ble  in  wildness,  and  nature  lay  as  it  had  proceeded  from  the 
word  of  God. 

The  naturalist  paused.  He  listened  to  the  deep  sepul 
chral  sounds,  he  heard  the  winds  above  him ;  and  he  said, 
"  Spirits  and  bards  are  these!  There 'are  spirits  in  every 
thing  ;  there  are  bards  the  wide  world  o'er.  I  hear  them  as 
the  voice  of  God." 

Then,  turning,  he   saw  another  mountain   opposite.     Ita 


OR,  THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  323 

wild,  precipitous  sides,  its  fissures  where  the  tiny  flowerets 
straggled  through,  its  clumps  of  trees,  its  peaks  beyond, 
hoary  with  venerable  age,  inspired  the  man  as  he  stood  look 
ing  from  his  height.  The  hat  that  he  had  worn  as  covering 
between  himself  and  Maker,  he  now  took  off;  and,  holding 
it  in  his  left  hand,  with  his  right  he  brushed  his  hair  back 
from  his  brow,  looked  upward,  downward,  and  around,  and 
then  again  at  the  mountain  opposite.  The  old,  old  moun 
tain  held  its  grand  sway  in  dignity,  unheeding  its  own 
beauty,  its  caverns,  or  its  roaring  winds.  The  naturalist 
stood  and  regarded  it ;  then,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  with  reverence  in  his  countenance,  he  stooped  for 
ward,  and  —  bowed.  Then  he  drew  back,  and  waited  ;  but 
the  grand  old  hill  returned  not  his  salute.  He  paused  a 
moment ;  then,  planting  one  foot  forward,  as  though  to  make 
a  nearer  approach,  he  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  bowed 
again,  with  a  reverence  deep  and  long. 

Then  his  friends  were  alarmed  for  his  sanity  ;  and  as  his 
servant  had  approached  him  respectfully,  so  they  drew  near 
now.  They  gathered  before  him ;  and,  with  the  rights  of 
men  who  had  been  his  equals,  they  looked  him  in  the  face. 
•  "  Ay,  surely,  thou  art  mad  !  Dost  thou  worship  a  moun 
tain  ?" 

He  turned  his  eyes  to  them,  and  said  simply,  "Xay.  It 
is  not  the  mountain  I  am  worshipping,  but  the  God  I  see 
within  it ;  for  it  is  the  same  God  here  as  everywhere,  the 
same  that  I  saw  at  home.  Creation  is  all  the  same.  It  is 
all  life.  Life  is  its  spirit,  life  its  essence  ;  its  manifestations 
are  beings  of  life.  It  is  all  a  living  egg  within  an  egg. 
These  rocks,  once  molten  particles,  the  drops  of  water  every 
where,  the  trees,  the  air,  the  clouds,  the  vegetation,  the  skip 
ping  gazelle,  the  mountain  acorn  at  my  feet,  this  wrinkled 
moss,  —  all,  when  in  life,  are  of  tiny  globlets  filled  with  divine 
life.  Dying,  they  throw  themselves  into  fantastic  forms; 


324  BELLA ; 

but,  living,  their  minutest  atoms  are  full  of  the  life  we  none 
of  uu  may  give,  though  we  may  talce.     Let  us  ascend." 

Then,  covering  his  head,  he  turned  and  climbed.  His  feet 
seemed  tireless ;  and  he  went  as  if  upborne  by  unseen 
wings.  His  friends  followed  afar  off,  gazing  at  him  as  he 
uprose  from  cliff  to  cliff,  never  looking  backward,  but  up 
ward,  onward,  upward  yet  again.  Glacial  snows  beneath 
his  feet,  glacial  ice  and  fissures,  all  were  glided  over  as 
though  they  were  but  sunbeams  in  his  path.  Eriends  and 
servants  plied  their  staves,  but  all  in  vain.  They  walked 
by  sight,  he  went  by  tireless  faith.  They  climbed  as  men ; 
he  soared  as  a  man  who  felt  God  within  himself.  At  length 
he  reached  the  summit,  the  ice-clad  brow ;  and,  on  its  daz 
zling  peak,  he  stood,  alone.  Far  down,  his  friends  were 
panting,  as  they  planted  their  staves.  Looking  up,  they 
saw  him  on  the  dazzling  point ;  his  hat,  thrown  off,  was  roll 
ing  far  away  ;  and  his  arms  outstretched,  as  his  head  was 
lifted  up,  made  him  look  as  a  human  figure  ascending  to 
God.  And  such  he  was !  He  stood,  absorbed,  as  one  en 
tranced  ;  and  his  thoughts,  emerging  from  the  microscopic 
egg,  went  outward  ar.d  upward  in  rapt  expansion. 

"  And  yet,"  he  »aid  to  himself,  "I  do  not  see  the  limit. 
That  great  outer  limit  —  where  is  it?  Where  is  the  boun 
dary  of  God  ?  Where  the  outer,  farther,  most  distant  rind 
of  space,  the  great,  outer  shell,  the  grand  circumference  ? 
Where  ?  " 

.  When  his  friends  reached  him,  he  seemed  ready  to  follow 
his  hat  down  the  backward  slide,  so  eagerly  his  gaze  was 
fastened  upward.  They  clasped  him  in  their  arms.  "Mas 
ter,  what  aileth  thee?  Thou  art  presumptuous." 

He  dropped  his  head,  and  fixed  his  deep,  luminous  eyes 
on  theirs. 

"Yes,  I  am  presumptuous.  I  thought  to  find  God.  I 
see  all  earthly  forms  as  eggs,  full  of  life.  The  earth  itself 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY. 

is  but  au  egg.  The  sun,  the  moon,  the  planets,  are  but 
eggs.  The  solar  system  is  an  egg,  revolving  ever.  Other 
suns,  and  other  systems,  are  eggs,  and  all  go  round  together 
in  one  vast  unity;  but  the  limit — the* outer  bound  —  in 
vain  I  try  to  find  it  —  all  in  vain." 

" Master," said  they,  "the  limit  thou  mayst  never  know. 
There  is  no  limit  to  God.  Why  seek  him  so  far  away  ?  If 
thou  shouldst  find  him  there,  he  would  be  the  same  as  here. 
He  is  unchangeable.  Find  him  in  thine  own  heart,  master. 
He  is  there.  Find  him  in  thine  own  home.  He  is  there, 
also  ;  and  thy  Aurelia  will  marvel  what  has  become  of  thee." 

"  Aurelia !  Yes  :  I  will  go  to  her.  I  had  forgotten  her 
in  thinking  of  God.  Lead  me  down." 

They  took  his  hands,  and  carefully  began  the  descent. 
His  hair  was  flying  in  the  wind,  and  his  face  was  full  of 
awe,  unsatisfied. 

"  Master,"  said  the  servant,  "  wilt  take  my  hat?  " 

"  Nay.  Let  me  descend  from  God's  presence  with  only 
the  covering  that  his  Spirit  gave  me." 

Then  they  went  down,  down,  past  all  they  saw  in  ascend 
ing  ;  still  down,  till  the  green  fields  came  in  view,  the  old, 
familiar  landscape  spread  before  them,  and  every  thing  seemed 
to  say,  "Welcome  back  to  us,  0  spirit  searcher!  The 
Spirit  thou  seekest  is  here." 

He  came  to  his  own  door  at  evening  tide.  His  locks 
were  wet  with  the  dew,  and  his  garments  flapped  limp  in 
the  darkening  air.  Aurelia  met  him  at  the  door. 

"  My  husband,  I  have  been  troubled  for  thee.  Where 
hast  thou  been  ?  " 

He  looked  in  her  face  a  moment,  saw  their  children 
gathered  near,  then,  bending  forward,  he  fell  into  her  own 
outspreading  arms. 

"  I  have  been"  he  said,  "  to  find  God ;  and,  behold !  he 
is  here." 

28 


326  BELLA  ; 

"  Yes,  my  husband,  God  is  here.  Wherefore  didst  thou 
seek  him  elsewhere  ?  " 

"  I  thought  to  seek  him  in  boundless  space,  as  life  ia 
immensity,  prolific  in  eternal  thought." 

"  Thou  art  seeking  higher  than  thou  canst  reach,  my 
husband,"  said  Aurelia,  as  she  smoothed  his  damp  hair,  and 
drew  off  his  limp  coat.  "  Thou  canst  not  reach  the  Infinite 
with  thy  finite  mind.  Thou  must  find  him  with  such 
powers  as  he  has  given  thee.  Find  him  in  love,  the  love  of 
me  and  them" 

Her  finger  pointed  to  the  little  ones,  gathered  near.  The 
father's  heart  was  stirred. 

"  Thou  art  right,  Aurelia.  Call  them  hither.  Let  us 
kneel  and  pray." 

Then,  beneath  that  blest  home  roof,  there  went  up  such  a 
prayer  that  the  angels  stopped  to  listen  ;  and  God  seemed 
very,  very  near,  even  as  a  part  of  the  loved  household. 
With  infinite  sweetness  in  his  heart,  the  father  arose  ;  and  a 
flood  of  beauty  filled  his  soul.  In  solemn  voice  he  repeated, 
"  Thou  art  right,  Aurelia  :  our  God  is  here." 

This  was  the  naturalist  who  laid  before  him,  on  his  desk, 
two  germs,  and  held  his  powerful  glass  above  them.  He 
had  called  his  children  around  him.  He  wanted  to  teach 
them  the  mysteries  of  life.  He  drew  them  near. 

"  I  have  here,"  said  he,  "  two  little  germs.  Very  small 
they  are,  mere  atoms  ;  but  in  them  lies  enfolded  —  what  ?  " 

"  Life,"  answered  the  eldest.  "  I  know  you  would  say 
life." 

"Right,  my  son.  Life  lies  dormant  in  these  germs. 
Dead,  apparently,  they  are ;  but  each  of  these  little  seeds  is 
so  wondrously  made,  that,  in  suitable  circumstances,  life  would 
quicken  in  them,  and  they  would  expand  and  grow  with  all 
the  organizations  of  their  natures.  Worthless  as  they  look, 
they  have  within  them  every  element  of  growth ;  and  just 


OR,   THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  327 

one  touch  of  electric  warmth  and  natural  force  would  start  a 
power  in  them  that  could  be  checked  only  by  death.  They 
are  organized.  Look  at  them,  and  tell  me  what  kind  of  life 
is  in  them.  They  are  not  alike." 

One  by  one  the  children  took  the  glass,  and,  peering 
through  it,  scanned  the  two  magnified  germs.  At  the  one, 
and  then  the  other,  they  looked,  then  handed  back  the 
glass. 

"  We  cannot  tell  what  kind  of  life.     They  are  just  alike." 

"  No,  my  children.  The  germs  are  not  alike.  Try  once 
more." 

Again  they  looked,  holding  the  glass  above  the  tiny 
specks,  and  unfolding  the  most  marvellously  wonder 
ful  constructions,  as  though  a  world  was  graven  within,  set 
with  a  signet  of  rare  and  wondrous  value ;  but  what  kind  of 
a  world,  or  what  the  value,  no  mortal  power  could  tell.  The 
children  handed  back  the  glass. 

"They  are  truly  just  the  same,  father." 

The  naturalist  smiled.  "Just  so  they  seem  to  me,  my 
children.  I  have  scanned  them  long  and  earnestly  ;  I  dis 
cern  no  difference.  But  He.  who  made  them  sees  a  differ 
ence,  and  they  are  different ;  for  one  would  grow  into  a  tree, 
the  other  into  an  animal." 

The  listeners  looked  incredulous,  but  the  naturalist  con 
tinued.  "  It  is  even  so,  my  children.  In  these  two  germs  I 
find  no  marks  by  which  I  can  distinguish  the  tree  or  ani 
mal  ;  but  the  Creator  has  planned  them,  and,  by  a  magnetic 
touch,  they  quicken  into  life,  and  grow,  by  laws  of  nature 
working  unseen  by  human  eyes.  Once,  as  you  know,  I  went 
far  up  a  mountain  to  find  God.  Now  I  cannot  even  find 
him  here ;  but  I  know  there  is  a  power  intelligent  in  these 
germs,  just  as  there  is  in  all  germs,  in  all  the  earth,  and  in 
all  the  universe.  This  power  is  a  unit  in  itself;  but  in  its 
works  it  is  multiplied,  and  various  in  forms  and  ways  of  in- 


BELLA  ; 

finite  varieties.  Truly  the  mysterious  workings  of  life  are 
wonderful  !  " 

"  Father,"  said  the  children,  "  do  all  things  spring  from 
little  germs  ?  Do  we  ?  " 

"All  earthly  forms,  my  dears,  spring  from  germs.  We 
were  once  but  little  germs,  lying  dormant  in  God's  secret 
storehouse.  He  touched  us  by  his  own  laws  of  love  ;  and  in 
an  instant  we  sprang  into  life,  endowed  with  every  attribute 
that  would  be  ours  through  our  existence.  Those  attributes 
we  can  never  tear  wholly  from  ourselves,  though  we  may 
curb,  and  guide,  and  govern  ourselves  by  the  laws  of  rea 
son,  thus  directing  our  growth  to  forms  of  beauty  and  holy 
symmetry.  The  more  I  study  the  laws  of  nature,  the  more 
deeply  I  am  impressed,  that,  in  the  very  incipience  of  the 
germ,  lies  the  stamp  of  its  future.  In  human  germs,  with 
their  wonderful,  complex  organisms,  full  of  spirit  and  mind, 
and  passions  that  are  to  rule  their  quickeiiings  and  growth, 
lie  the  elements  of  their  after  years ;  and,  in  the  impulses  that 
give  them  life,  are  the  seeds  of  their  after  growth  in  good 
or  bad,  to  courses  of  life  or  soul  death.  It  seems  to  me  that 
a  fact  of  such  infinite  importance  should  be  known  and  un 
derstood  by  every  being  born  for  immortality.  Therefore 
I  have  called  you  all  together,  to  tell  you  the  laws  of  life  in 
its  beginning.  I  tell  you  such  things  as  I  have  learned. 
God  dwelleth  in  the  secrets  of  life;  and  those  people  who 
tamper  with  these  secrets  tamper  with  the  holy  laws  of  the 
Invisible.  .  • 

"  You  see  these  germs  lying  apparently  inanimate.  With 
one  hand  you  might  sweep  them  away  as  two  worthless 
bits ;  but  you  sweep  away  a  tree  which  might  grow  up  to 
beauty  and  usefulness ;  and  you  sweep  away  an  animal 
which,  also,  would  become  useful  in  its  place." 

"  No,  father :  we  sweep  away  germs  only.  This  speak 
is  not  a  tree,  nor  that  an  animal.'" 


OR,  THE   CRADLE   OP  LIBERTY.  329 

"Not  yet ;  but,  under  proper  circumstances,  they  will  be 
in  the  future,  and  the  future  is  always  before  us.  If  we  do 
not  live  to  encounter  its  wants,  myriads  ivill  live  ;  and,  in  all 
the  seed-sowing  of  the  present,  we  should  think  of  the 
future.  Every  germ  of  life  that  we  destroy  or  deface  or 
weaken  now,  destroys,  defaces,  and  weakens  the  future." 

"  But,  father,  are  we  expected  to  preserve  and  care  for 
every  seed  and  bulb  and  root  and  graft  of  vegetation,  or 
for  every  little  egg  and  embryo  of  animals,  of  which  you 
sometimes  tell  ?  " 

"  No,"  the  father  answered  thoughtfully,  "  perhaps  not 
in  vegetation,  or  the  lower  classes  of  animal  creations ;  but 
when  we  ascend  to  ourselves,  with  our  natures  planted  deep 
in  animal  powers,  yet  ascending  to  God  in  intellects  and 
affections,  we  are  bound  by  life  itself,  and  by  God  who  is 
life,  to  watch,  and  guard  from  harm,  each  little  gerni !  One 
hidden  embryo,  be  it  but  a  microscopic  atom,  has  in  it  every 
element  of  the  future  man  or  woman.  They  who  destroy  or 
injure  it,  destroy  or  injure  immortality.  We  all  know  that 
seeds,  or  germs,  inherit  qualities.  The  acorn  becomes  an 
oak,  because  the  mother  of  the  acorn  was  an  oak,  and 
the  seed  has  inherited  its  mother's  qualities.  The  germs  of 
different  animals  grow  to  maturity  in  just  such  structures 
and  natures  as  their  parents  had,  because  they,  as  germs, 
derived  and  inherited  these  natures.  These  are  all  quick 
ened  into  growing  life  by  instincts  of  nature,  governed  by 
natural  laws ;  therefore,  each  is  proper  and  perfect  in  its 
way.  But  when  we  ascend  to  men,  we  find  new  elements, 
and  new  powers  governing  each  creation.  Above  instinct, 
we  find  reason  and  moral  qualities.  The  quickening  of 
germs  can  no  longer  follow  blind  instinct ;  for  reason  has 
usurped  the  place  of  instinct,  and  we  must  know  the  whys 
and  wherefores  and  the  hows  of  all  our  actions,  creation 
among  the  rest.  I  tell  these  things,  my  children,  because 


330  BELLA ; 

you  will  be  men  and  women  ;  and  while  in  these  tender 
years  you  are  growing  to  assume  life's  duties,  you  should 
learn  what  those  duties  are.  I  send  you  to  others  to  learn 
your  geographies  and  the  higher  hranches  of  what  men  call 
learning  ;  but  the  secrets  of  life  I  teach  you  myself,  even  as  I 
teach  you  to  pray  and  praise :  for  I  believe  the  keeping  of 
the  laws  of  the  secrets  of  life  is  more  sacred  than  any 
outward  form  of  religious  worship ;  for  these  secrets  are  the 
foundation  of  human  nature  and  existence.  They  are 
secrets  resulting  from  the  laws  of  the  unseen  God  whom 
men  profess  to  honor,  and  have  been  established  in  nature 
as  an  integral  and  vital  part.  When  men  die,  all  people 
are  serious.  All  feel  that  it  is  a  solemn  thing  to  enter  upon 
that  unseen  existence  from  which  there  is  no  return.  But 
there  is  a  moment  of  vastly  more  importance  to  every  indi 
vidual,  a  moment  of  more  impressive  grandeur  and  more 
ineffaceable  stamp,  when  even  the  eternal  destiny  of  each 
person  is  fixed." 

The  father  paused;  and  the  children,  looking  up  inquir 
ingly,  asked,  "  Is  it  when  people  are  born  ?  " 

"  No :  it  is  not  when  people  are  called  born.  At  birth 
the  child  is  already  a  growing  being.  It  has  obtained  con 
sistency  and  form  sufficient  to  present  it  to  the  eyes  of  love. 
It  has  been  already  stamped  with  its  mental  as  well  as  its 
physical  characteristics.  Greater  than  death,  greater  than 
birth,  greater  than  any  event  of  life,  is  that  moment,  that 
second,  when  electric  love  flashing  to  electric  love,  wakens 
the  eternal  germ  of  one  hidden,  secret  atom  of  eternal  human 
life,  and  kindles  it  into  an  action  that  must  resound  through 
the  never-ceasing  passages  of  immortality.  That  is  a  hal 
lowed  moment  in  the  acts  of  Nature,  when,  in  God's  own 
way,  a  soul  immortal  springs  to  action,  for  weal  or  woe,  for 
joy  or  sorrow,  for  usefulness  or  crime.  By  its  previous  sit 
uation  the  human  geruihad  inherited  its  physical  character; 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  331 

and,  in  this  hallowed  moment,  its  impulses  and  moral  nature 
are  stamped. 

"  After  years  may  labor  on  children ;  the  father  may  work 
for  them,  the  mother  may  nurture  them  in  love  ;  society  and 
religion  may  work  together  for  them ;  but  never,  never,  can. 
the  first  instantaneous  stamp  be  removed,  and  never  can 
people  be  free  from  the  passions  and  emotions  then  given 
them. 

"  The  Bible  recognizes  God's  secrets  and  their  power. 
David  says,  '  Behold  I  was  shapen  in  iniquitj',  and  in  sin 
did  my  mother  conceive  me ;  and  the  secret  of  Christ's  pure 
and  wonderful  life  lay  in  his  pure  and  holy  beginning.  The 
Father  did  not  leave  him  to  the  chance  mouldings  of  after 
life,  but  made  his  character  sure  in  the  stamp  of  his  crea 
tion.  His  strength  to  overcome  all  passion  was  derived 
from  the  quickening  powers  of  his  germ-life;  and  no  temp 
tations  of  manhood  could  warp  or  bend  that  holy  nature." 

"  And  why,"  asked  the  children,  "  does  not  God  have  us 
all  made  so  beautifully  ?  " 

"  Why,"  repeated  the  naturalist.  "Why?  If  you  ask 
me  the  why,  I  shall  be  lost,  even  as  I  was  lost  on  the  moun 
tain  when  I  sought  God's  limit.  No  man  may  know  the 
limit,  or  the  why  ;  but  this  I  know  :  We  are  right  when  we 
keep  near  God,  and  walk  in  his  laws  of  nature.  Human 
beings  cannot  sink  to  brutedom.  They  cannot  fall  from 
reason  to  instinct,  but  they  can  fall  below  it ;  and,  to  save 
humanity  from  such  a  fall,  we  need  instruction.  If  we 
would  be  like  Christ,  we  must  be  created  by  God's  laws  of 
purity  and  love." 

"  But,  father,  if  Christ  was  created  in  a  way  by  which  he 
was  more  holy  than  we,  then  we  can  never  be  like  him." 

"  We  can  seek  to  approach  him  in  likeness,  my  children. 
And  we  can  seek  the  laws  of  life  in  its  secrets,  that  we  may 
know  how  to  create  our  children  in  more  purity  than  we 


BELLA  ; 

were  created,  and  thus  take  the  first  step  towards  the  great 
regeneration  of  the  human  race  ;  for  this  purpose,  we  need 
instruction  in  the  laws  of  Nature.  Every  leaf  that  falls, 
every  flower  that  blooms,  does  so  by  the  laws  of  Nature. 
Every  particle  of  dust,  and  every  unseen  element,  is  subject 
to  these  laws.  Even  so  every  germ  that  quickens  into  life 
is  subject  to  these  laws.  Herein  lie  great  truths,  mighty 
truths,  and  truths  that  hold  within  them  the  eternal  desti 
nies  of  the  human  race,  and  the  progress  of  nations.  These 
truths  I  shall  teach  to  you,  my  children,  from  time  to  time, 
even  as  I  teach  you  all  truths,  as  you  become  capable  of 
understanding  them.  Let  us  now  kneel  down  and  pray." 

If  all  fathers  were  like  this  naturalist,  such  truths  would 
be  disseminated  among  the  children  of  our  homes  as  would 
save  them  from  temptations,  crimes,  lunacy,  diseases,  and  a 
myriad  of  evils  that  now  grow  up  in  people,  leading  them  to 
prisons,  misery,  and  death.  Thoughtful  people  view  the  in 
crease  of  crime  in  our  country  with  sorrow,  and  inquiries 
how  to  prevent  it.  Sabbath  schools  and  pulpits  have  little 
power  over  large  classes  who  never  come  under  their  influ 
ence  ;  and  some  who  do,  seem  to  have  no  stamina  within 
themselves  by  which  to  follow  the  good  that  is  taught  them. 
As  a  consequence,  we  have  prisons,  asylums,  homes,  peniten 
tiaries,  jails,  houses  of  correction,  houses  of  sin,  reform 
schools,  and  every  appliance  for  punishment ;  yet  our  people 
seem  like  the  children  of  a  father  who  is  constantly  flogging, 
while,  the  more  he  flogs,  the  more  the  children  transgress. 
Something  different  is  needed  to  save  us  from  these  evils ; 
and  instruction  in  themselves,  such  instruction  as  teaches 
them  from  youth  the  value  of  themselves  as  living  creations 
of  God,  is  needed. 

In  no  way  have  nations  more  surely  fallen  into  degener 
acy  than  by  the  continued  and  successive  creations  of  new 
generations,  under  emotions  and  influences  and  circuni- 


OB,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  333 

stances  that  carry  death  to  the  soul-powers  of  the  human 
germs  at  the  instant  that  they  quicken  them  into  life.  As 
the  children  carry  to  manhood  and  old  age  the  inherited 
traits  of  their  ancestors,  so  they  bear  through  time  and 
through  eternity  the  very  impulses  of  the  parental  spirits 
that  moved  their  earthly  creators  at  their  beginnings. 
Then,  being  thus  begotten  by  ignorance,  they  are  left  to 
grope  their  way  along,  learning  the  alphabet  of  letters,  but 
never  the  alphabet  of  life.  It  is  derogatory  to  the  intelli 
gence  of  young  people  to  suppose  they  can  learn  of  every 
other  subject  in  the  universe,  and  have  no  curiosity  with 
regard  to  the  secrets  of  human  reproduction.  They  do  feel 
curiosity  ;  and  if  they  cannot  be  allowed  to  have  pure,  scien 
tific  instruction,  they  will  seek  the  impure,  and  the  conse 
quence  will  appear  in  the  increase  of  insanity,  defilement, 
and  crime. 

Withholding  scientific,  proper  instruction  in  life  from  the 
young  does  not  promote  their  purity.  It  throws  around 
these  topics  a  veil  of  mystery  that  stimulates  the  desires  of 
young  persons  for  knowledge  of  what  is  carefully  kept  from 
them  ;  and,  in  default  of  better  instruction,  they  eagerly  seek 
that  which  is  written  by  base  persons,  which  is  as  poison  to 
them.  A  statement  has  just  appeared  in  public  prints,  rel 
ative  to  licentious  publications. 

"A  young  man  of  New  York  commenced,  single-handed, 
a  crusade  against  the  dealers  in  licentious  literature.  He 
had  not  much  encouragement ;  the  police  winked  at  the 
traffic  ;  many  influential  men  were  indifferent ;  and  it  was 
only  by  the  most  persevering  efforts  that  he  succeeded  in  get 
ting  any  attention  paid  to  his  demands.  At  length  he  se 
cured  the  indirect  support  of  the  Young  Men's  Christian 
Association,  and  of  the  leading  men  in  the  American  Tract 
Society,  and  the  hearty  co-operation  of  the  Assistant  Dis 
trict  Attorney.  As  a  result  of  his  efforts,  six  of  the 


334  BELLA ; 

dealers  were  carried  to  the  State  prison,  over  half  a  million 
publications  were  seized  and  destroyed.  In  a  single  seizure, 
nine  tons  were  captured.  Enough  has  been  brought  to 
light  to  make  it  clear  that  these  dealers  have  emissaries  in 
every  town,  and  canvassers  in  many  of  our  schools,  both 
male  and  female." 

"  This,"  says  a  New  York  paper,  "  is  a  matter  which  de 
mands  the  attention  of  our  public  authorities  everywhere. 
It  ought  not  to  be  left  to  private  individuals  to  ferret  out 
this  species  of  rascality.  The  American  Tract  Society  are 
entitled  to  the  support  and  commendation  of  the  entire 
community,  irrespective  of  sect  .or  party,  in  the  endeavor  to 
arouse  public  sentiment  on  this  subject,  and  in  their  effort, 
by  establishing  a  cheap  arid  illustrated  literature,  to  sup 
plant  the  obscene  and  vicious." 

How  can  we  read  that,  without  seeing  secret  desires  of 
young  people  for  some  light  on  these  secret  subjects.  This 
traffic  rests,  like  all  trade,  on  the  laws  of  demand  and  sup 
ply.  There  is  a  secret  demand  among  our  young  people 
for  these  works,  or  there  would  be  no  supply.  The  stop 
page  of  sales  in  one  quarter  will  not  stop  the  evil.  Other 
printers  will  arise,  other  salesmen  will  be  found ;  and,  as 
long  as  the  demand  continues,  the  secret  sales  will  go  on. 
Universal,  continued,  and  persistent  instruction  on  these 
very  subjects  is  the  only  remedy  that  will  effectually  cure 
the  evil.  Good,  cheap,  and  illustrated  literature  serves  its 
own  good  purposes  ;  but  it  never  touches  these  secret  sub 
jects,  therefore  the  young  are  still  in  darkness.  Our 
young  people  are  too  intelligent  to  be  left  thus  ignorant. 

In  a  nation  where  liberty  is  fostered  till  the  people  are 
imbued  with  its  noble  spirit,  precautions  and  watchful  care 
are  needed  lest  poisons  mingle  with  the  good  instruction, 
and  freedom  demand  rights  which  are  wrong.  When  free 
dom  encroaches  on  the  laws  of  right,  she  seeks  ivrong,  and 


OR,   THE   CRADLE   OF  LIBERTY.  335 

her  beautiful  name  is  tarnished.  When  she  prefixes  free  to 
love,  and  gives  approval  to  the  compounded  word,  she  lays 
the  foundation  of  practices  that  will  destroy  herself,  rilling 
her  nursery  with  vices  of  every  form. 

Love,  as  it  comes  from  God,  is  free,  impartial,  and  uni 
versal  ;  but  we  must  receive  it  under  laws  that  we  cannot 
violate  without  penalties.  We  have  no  right  to  inculcate 
ideas  that  lead  us  as  unrestrained  passions  within  may  dic 
tate  ;  nor  have  we  a  right  to  permit  ignorance  by  which  our 
young  people  rush  blindly  into  quagmires  of  destruction. 
Love  has  laws,  and  life  has  laws ;  and  we  must  learn  these 
laws,  or  we  can  never  follow  them. 

Life  and  love  are  by  nature  blended  in  humanity,  even 
as  in  God.  When  we  say,  God  is  life,  or  God  is  love,  we 
speak  synonomous  terms  ;  for  life  and  love  have  an  eternal 
marriage  in  infinity.  They  should  be  wedded  in  finite  con 
structions.  Love  gives  birth  to  life  ;  and  life,  when  con 
ceived,  should  be  love.  But  this  love  must  be  free  from 
grossness,  else  the  life  will  not  be  pure  ;  and  beings  created 
with  impure  life  will  fall  victims  to  insanity,  disease,  and 
crime,  which  is  disease. 

Of  all  diseases,  crime  is  the  most  deadly,  the  most  to  be 
dreaded.  It  cannot  be  driven  out  by  harshness  or  prisons 
or  chains  or  coercions.  It  is  a  disease  that  works  in  the 
reason,  the  moral  faculties,  and  the  perceptions.  It  can  be 
cured  only  by  intelligent  love  seeking  its  roots,  and  apply 
ing  remedies  there.  We  shut  criminals  into  prison  ;  but 
crime  still  works  outside,  springing  up  in  new  victims ;  and 
all  around  us  are  people  on  whose  vitals  the  secrets  of  crime 
are  feeding. 

Works  of  instruction  on  the  physiology  of  ourselves 
should  be,  as  we  have  said,  universal  in  our  public  schools ; 
and,  in  our  homes,  there  should  be  text-books  on  the  secrets 
of  human  life,  seeing  that  every  person  is  compelled  by 


336  BELLA  ; 

nature  to  pass  through  these  secrets.  If  prudish  people 
cover  their  faces,  and  call  it  immodest  to  introduce  works  of 
instruction  on  these  subjects,  let  them  watch  the  columns  of 
their  newspapers,  and  then  ask  whether  we  have  not  already 
cause  to  blush  ?  Throwing  down  the  evening  paper  in  dis 
gust,  a  young  girl  said,  "  Father,  why  don't  you  take  a  bet 
ter  paper  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "That  is  a  first-class 
paper.  I  can  find  no  better." 

"  It  isn't  fit  to  read,"  she  answered.  ".It  is  full  of  mur 
ders  and  robberies  and  suicides,  and  all  horrible  doings." 

"  But,  my  dear,  these  sad  things  occur  among  the  people  ; 
and  it  is  the  business  of  the  papers  to  record  them." 

"Then 'I  wish  we  had  better  people,"  the  girl  replied. 

We  should  all  say  of  our  papers  as  she  said,  if  we  had 
not  become  hardened  by  habit  of  reading  them.  The  dis 
gusting  records  of  crimes,  the  lists  of  advertisements  for 
diseases  that  never  should  be,  the  statistics  of  our  locked 
institutions,  and  the  records  of  our  courts,  show  plainly 
what  terrible  secrets  are  lurking  beneath  the  current  show 
of  morality.  Let  legislators  vote  money  to  pay  our 
learned  men  for  writing,  and  our  publishers  for  issuing, 
books  of  instruction  to  supply  ever}'  family  of  every  city, 
town,  ward,  and  district,  with  text-books  on  the  workings 
of  life.  This  would  be  far  less  cost  than  prisons,  and  all 
the  cumberings  of  courts  in  which  to  try  unfortunate  peo 
ple  diseased  with  sin.  Let  government  spend  money  to 
teach  and  save  the  people,  not  to  punish  them  with  worse 
than  death. 

The  strength  of  a  nation  lies  in  the  strength  of  its 
homes ;  but  intelligent  people  can  never  have  strong, 
virtuous  homes,  till  the  beings  born  in  those  homes  are 
created,  and  reared  also,  by  Nature's  pure  laws. 

This  science  of  life  that  should  be    taught  in  our  homes 


OK,   THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  337 

is  deeply  connected  with  every  human  being's  welfare.  It 
is  ingrafted  into  our  deepest  impulsive  motive  power ;  and 
yet  that  science  is  utterly  ignored  in  the  education  of  the 
masses.  Young  people  step  within  the  bonds  of  wedlock, 
take  upon  themselves  the  holiest  and  most  essential  duties 
of  earth,  and  become  creators  of  immortal  beings,  without 
one  sensible  idea  of  what  they  are  doing,  or  one  iota  of  true 
knowledge  of  themselves,  or  of  the  helpless  immortals  they 
bring  into  life.  Much  weeping  there  is  in  consequence ; 
"  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children,  because  they  are  not," 
and  sometimes  weeping  because  they  are.  Cruel  it  is  to 
mothers  to  compel  them,  or  permit  them,  to  bring  into  the 
world  and  rear  offspring  whose  end  must  be  in  infamy, 
because  of  the  moral  infamy  by  which  their  conceptive 
births  were  stamped. 

Much  is  charged  at  the  door  of  Providence  that  should 
be  charged  to  our  own  ignorance ;  and  many  parents  ask 
resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  when  they  have  unknow 
ingly  gone  in  the  face  of  that  will  "by  their  direct  violations 
of  the  laws  of  Nature,  that  they  might  have  learned,  and 
would  have  learned,  if  society  countenanced  such  knowl 
edge.  Little  babes  lie  in  the  laps  of  mothers  who  have 
not  one  trite  idea  of  their  inner  systems,  natures,  or  needs. 
The  mothers  know  the  piano,  the  fashions,  and,  mayhap, 
their  housework ;  the  fathers  know  how  to  make  money. 
But  of  the  little  innocents  that  have  come  to  them,  they 
know  nothing.  By  their  stupidity  they  make  the  children 
ill;  then  they  run  for  a  doctor ;  the  children  live  perhaps, 
—  perhaps  they  die,  and  it  is  all  laid  to  Providence  ;  and, 
in  all  our  enlightened  land,  none  rise  to  teach  the  people 
that  the  fault  is  in  their  own  ignorance. 

Young  people,  and  people  in  maturity,  yield  to  vile  de 
basements,  and  become  as  scum  in  our  midst  j  and  often 
this,  too,  is  chargeable  to  ignorance. 

29 


338  BELLA  ; 

On  whatever  subject  we  permit  ignorance  to  rest  its 
blight,  we  shall  find  the  saddest  of  effects.  And  when 
that  subject  is  our  own  selves,  in  any  department  of  our 
natures,  woe  is  ours.  We  cannot  escape  the  penalties  if 
we  violate  nature ;  and  we  have  but  one  way  to  escape 
these  violations,  —  that  way  is  by  instruction. 

This  instruction  belongs  to  government,  just  as  common 
schools  belong  to  it.  Government  should  cause  the  sub 
jects  of  human  life  to  be  made  the  object  of  text-book  in 
struction,  till  every  family  of  every  city  and  town  through 
out  our  broad  land  is  made  acquainted  with  the  inexorable 
laws  of  Nature  on  these  delicate,  vital  points.  In  no  other 
"way  can  the  people  of  our  country  be  saved  from  destruc 
tion. 

To  be  forgiven  for  sin  is  the  greatest  •  blessing  a  sinner 
can  receive ;  but  to  be  saved  from  becoming  sinners  is 
the  highest  gift  intelligent  people  need. 

Especially  does  this  grand  work  of  instruction  belong  to 
us  as  Americans.  By  every  tie  that  binds  us  to  humanity, 
by  every  ship  that  sails  to  the  East  or  to  the  West,  by  our 
situation  between  the  two  borders  of  the  immense  Eastern 
hemisphere,  by  our  enlightenment  in  science,  our  enter 
prise,  our  national  vigor,  our  advance  in  freedom,  and  our 
free,  untrammelled  gospel,  we  are  bound  to  start  these 
mighty  ideas,  and  to  teach  people  the  natural  laws  of 
their  own  lives. 

There  are  no  more  new  countries  to  settle.  The  earth  is 
girdled  with  inhabitants.  There  is  no  large,  empty  space 
whither  the  good  can  flee  as  those  Pilgrims  came  to  Ply 
mouth  Rock.  Henceforth  we  must  all  live  in  thickly- 
settled  countries ;  and  shall  these  countries  be  covered  with 
people  shut  into  cells  and  dungeons  at  a  cost  of  law  and 
expense  to  government  that  is  fearful  to  contemplate  ? 
Or  shall  our  governments  expend  to  save  the  people  ?  It 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  339 

would  cost  far  less  to  instruct  the  nation  than  to  support 
the  heavy  array  of  courts,  and  ponderous  castles  studding 
the  land,  as  temples  where  the  prince  of  darkness  reigns. 
Let  us  open  our  eyes  to  these  facts ;  and  let  us  arise  to 
demand  instruction  from  our  learned  men,  ere  the  seeds  of 
corruption  are  so  thickly  sown  as  to  destroy  our  people. 

Thus,  and  thus  only,  we  shall  be  spared  the  loathsome 
spectacles  that  meet  us  now  in  dismal  corridors  and  miser 
able  cells. 


340  BELLA ; 


CHAPTEE  XXVII. 

|E  have  spoken  of  the  nation  as  a  mass  of  individu 
als,  and  of  the  cleansing  of  these  individuals,  as  we 
would  purify  the  drops  of  water  in  order  that  the 
ocean  may  he  full  of  limpid  purity.  There  is 
another  view  of  a  nation,  in  which  all  the  people  may 
he  ranked  as  one  hody,  and  the  nation  be  as  one  individual. 
This  individual  nation  has  its  currents,  its  flows,  its  central 
head  of  thought,  its  working  departments,  its  consuming 
departments,  its  intellectual  and  physical  strength,  its 
healthy  and  unhealthy  situations. 

At  this  moment  the  question  comes  to  us,  Is  this  nation 
healthy  ?  And  we  answer,  The  blood  is  too  much  in  the 
head.  The  extremities  are  cold.  In  other  words,  the  in 
tellect  and  thought  power  is  too  centralized  in  the  cities. 
The  rural  domains  are  desolate  and  cold. 

J.  G.  Holland  says,  "  We  find,  that,  in  the  world's 
estimate,  certain  professions,  callings,  and  trades  are  held 
highest,  held  to  be  most  respectable  and  honorable.  So 
the  world  rushes  after  them,  rushes  into  them  ;  so  half  of 
the  world  gets  out  of  its  place  at  once,  and  the  world  gets 
made  by  its  callings,  and  does  not  make  itself  at  all. 

"  Now,  the  truth  is,  that  every  man  is  respectable,  and 
every  power  grows  in  man  symmetrically,  only  when  he  is 
in  his  place." 

Mr.  Holland  illustrates  this  by  the  different  classes  of 
horses.  He  gives  the  qualities  of  family-horses,  saddle- 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  341 

horses,  truck-horses,  farm-horses,  trotting-horses,  and  so  on, 
and  then  proceeds  to  ask  the  propriety  of  fitting  an  ele 
phantine  truck-horse  for  the  race-course,  or  of  harnessing 
racers  before  a  heavy  load,  or  of  training  a  farm-horse  fora 
lady's  saddle,  or  using  the  graceful  ambler  for  a  breaking- 
up  plough.  "  All  these  horses,"  he  says,  "  are  beautiful  in 
their  places,  but  are  spoiled  out  of  place." 

Then  he  adds,  "  What  a  lesson  for  us  is  there  in  this 
illustration  !  Bear  me  witness  that  the  track  of  American 
public  and  professional  life  is  crowded  with  human  truck- 
horses,  and  saddle-horses,  and  farm-borses,  and  family- 
horses,  all  entered  for  the  premium  on  speed,  all  making 
themselves  ridiculous  by  the  efforts  they  put  forth  to  win  it, 
and  all  spoiling  themselves  for  the  sphere  to  which  their 
native  individualities  are  adapted. 

"  Thousands  of  these  unhappy  men  were  started  and 
stimulated  in  their  courses  by  such  general  and  indiscrimi 
nate  counsels  as  I  have  alluded  to.  As  boys,  as  young 
men,  they  were  told  to  'aim  high,'  and  were  particularly 
informed,  that,  if  they  pointed  their  arrows  at  the  sun,  the 
flight  would  be  higher  than  it  would  be  if  they  aimed 
lower,  — another  of  those  precious  maxims,  by-the-way,  of 
which  the  world  has  too  many ;  as  if  it  were  not  better  to 
knock  from  a  Virginia  rail-fence  a  respectable  gray 
squirrel,  than  to  spend  one's  shots  on  the  blank,  blue  sky. 
No  man  who  can  hit  any  thing  can  afford  to  waste  his 
arrows  upon  an  object  which  he  knows  they  can  never 
reach.  .  .  .  His  aim  must  be  determined  by  the  shape  of 
his  arrow,  the  size  of  his  bow,  and  the  strength  of  his 
arm. 

"  The  professional  and  political  lives  are  those  which  the 
great  world  of  unformed  mind  is  taught  to  regard,  not  only 
as  desirable  above  all  things,  but  as  attainable  by  all  men ; 
and,  being  both  desirable  and  attainable,  to  be  striven  for. 

29* 


342  BELLA  ; 

The  effect  has  been  to  crowd  professional  life  with  mounte 
banks  and  inferior  men,  and  political  life  with  demagogues. 
It  will  not  be  disputed,  I  suppose,  that  there  are  more  men 
engaged  in  the  professions  of  law  and  medicine  than  the 
country  has  any  need  of;  more  than  can  obtain  a  respect 
able  livelihood  for  themselves.  The  popular  notion  —  the 
popular  fallacy  —  is,  that,  if  a  man  is  going  to  make  any 
thing  of  himself,  he  must  be  in  public  or  professional  life 
of  some  sort. 

"  I  hesitate  to  speak  of  the  effect  of  these  false  ideas  upon 
the  Christian  ministry,  because  it  is  impossible  to  judge 
how  far  they  have  been  complicated  with  conscience,  hon 
est  self-consecration,  and  motives  of  beneficence.  ...  I 
will  not  undertake  to  decide  so  delicate  a  question  as  this 
matter  involves  ;  but  I  may  be  allowed  to  say,  that  it  seems 
to  me  a  more  Christian  thing  to  be  a  first-rate  Christian 
lawyer,  or  a  first-rate  Christian  farmer,  or  a  first-rate  Chris 
tian  shoemaker,  than  a  fifth-rate  Christian  minister.  If  a 
young  man  becomes  religious,  and  puts  himself  under  the 
law  of  love,  it  is  not,  therefore,  necessary  to  his  highest 
efficiency  in  the  Master's  service,  that  he  become  a  preacher. 
Nay,  the  pulpit  may  be  the  place  of  all  others  in  the  world 
where  he  would  be  the  most  likely  to  do  damage  to  the 
cause  he  loves.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  sometimes  fancied  that  the  reason  why  so  few  are 
adapted  to  the  three  varieties  of  professional  life  that  we  are 
considering  is,  that  there  was  no  original  provision  made 
for  these  classes  of  men.  When  Eve,  our  dear,  over- 
tempted  grandmother,  did  that  which  'brought  death  into 
the  world,  and  all  our  woe,'  she  did 'that  which  brought  phy 
sicians  into  the  work  and  all  lawyers,  and  ministers.  If 
our  race  had  not  fallen,  it  would  not  have  needed  ministers 
certainly ;  and  a  race  that  would  do  without  ministers  would 
offer  a  very  unpromising  field  for  the  professions  of  law 


OR,   THE  CEADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  343 

and  medicine.  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that,  when  the 
golden  thousand  years,  which  have  been  promised  us  so  long, 
shall  come,  professional  life  will  be  much  less  desirable  than 
it  is  now.  Every  man  will  be  as  good  as  a  minister,  and 
every  lawyer  will  be — a  man  ;  and  the  favorite  professional 
joke  about  the  existence  of  an  "  alarming  state  of  health  " 
will  become  as  serious  as  it  is  stale. 

"  But,  at  this  day,  it  is  in  politics,  quite  as  much  as  in 
the  professions,  that  we  see  the  effect  of  those  unwise  coun 
sels  given  to  the  young,  which  have  been  noticed  in  this 
discussion.  A  poor  boy  rises  to  become  a  governor,  as  many 
a  poor  boy  has  worthily  risen,  —  as  many  a  poor  boy,  I 
trust,  may  worthily  rise,  —  or  he  has  become  a  member  of 
Congress,  or  achieved  some  higher  or  humbler  position  in. 
political  life.  To  the  young  mind,  these  titles,  and  these 
positions,  are  so  represented  as  to  appear  to  be  the  prizes 
for  which  their  possessors  have  striven ;  as  a  fitting  and 
natural  object  and  reward  of  their  labors.  The  young  have 
not  been  taught,  by  their  self-appointed  counsellors,  that 
manhood  is  the  highest  human  estate ;  that  office  can  con 
fer  honor  upon  no  man  who  is  worthy  of  it,  and  that  it  will 
disgrace  every  man  who  is  not.  They  have  not  been 
taught,  that  to  desire  office,  and  to  labor  for  it  for  the  sake 
of  its  honors  and  distinctions,  is  the  meanest  of  all  am 
bitions,  and  the  most  degrading  of  all  pursuits.  They  have 
not  been  taught  to  distinguish  between  a  self-made  man 
and  a  self-made  governor ;  and  brought  to  understand  that 
a  self-made  man  is  greater  than  a  self-made  governor;  and 
that  a  self-made  governor  is  less  than  a  man.  Vital  dis 
tinctions  like  these  have  been  ignored ;  and  the  conse 
quence  is,  boys  without  beards  may  be  counted  by  thousands, 
in  this  country,  who  have  already  begun  their  dreams  of 
political  distinction  as  a  legitimate  aim  of  life ;  and  who 
are,  of  course,  growing  up  into  demagogues." 


344  BELLA  ; 

In  addition  to  these  overcrowded  classes  that  Mr.  Hol 
land  enumerates,  there  should  be  added  another,  more 
overdone,  if  possible,  than  the  others.  It  is  the  class  of 
writers.  No  persons  have  more  powerful  influence  than 
writers  for  the  public;  but  at  the  present  moment  the 
crowds  seeking  to  behold  their  writings  in  print  are  innu 
merable,  and  myriads  of  them  had  better  never  touch  a  pen. 
That  which  is  written  for  the  public  should  proceed  from 
the  deepest  and  best  thoughts  of  the  deepest  and  best  peo 
ple.  Public  writers  should  be  pure  with  God's  own  truths, 
warm  with  the  very  essence  of  simple,  natural  life,  replete 
with  solid  qualities,  and  never  the  result  of  hot-bed  culti 
vation.  The  present  style  of  fiction  is  sentimental  and 
highflown,  to  a  degree  that  is  actual  poison  to  young  minds, 
and,  therefore,  sin.  The  sentiments  are  highflown,  the 
lovers  are  ecstatic,  their  loves  are  rhapsodies,  the  rooms  of 
courtship  are  palace  rooms,  the  dress  of  the  lovers  is  fault 
less,  their  money  flows  in  unearned,  their  language  is  mel 
lifluous,  their  dispositions  heavenly  ;  and,  in  every  part  of 
life,  they  are  perfection.  These  are  the  pictures  on  which 
our  young  people  feed,  till  their  imaginations  are  colored  by 
falsities  never  to  be  realized.  They  fancy  their  own  loves 
tame,  because  the  persons  they  love  are  only  mortal  flesh 
and  blood ;  and,  according  to  these  writers,  poor  people  can 
never  love,  because  they  have  not  brown-stone  fronts,  and 
Brussels  tapestry. 

As  to  country  people,  if  these  writers  picture  them  at  all, 
they  caricature  them  in  uncouth  style,  make  them  appear 
verdant,  and  put  in  their  mouths  such  language,  that 
young  people  living  in  the  country,  and  reading  these  stories, 
are  almost  afraid  of  themselves,  and  flee  to  the  cities  to 
avoid  the  stigma  of  "  countrified." 

Thus  the  writers^  the  editors,  and  publishers,  feed  the 
country  on  sentiments  that  help  it  towards  ruin,  by  mis- 


OK,  THE  CRADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  345 

placing  its  young  and  vigorous  people,  starving  the  rural 
domains  mentally,  and  over-stuffing  the  cities.  Thus  the 
beautiful,  quiet  country,  the  quaint  old  places,  the  valleys, 
the  hill-sides,  the  mountain  recesses,  and  the  once  beloved 
farms,  where  the  dear  old  fathers  and  mothers  dwelt,  are 
deserted  by  the  educated  young  people,  and  by  the  enter 
prising  who  are  not  educated.  They  go  where  they  imagine 
higher  spheres  await  them,  and  where  they  imagine  life 
will  run  on  golden  wheels. 

Thus  the  intellect  is  taken  from  the  broad  country  where 
the  air  is  pure  with  natural  aromas,  where  the  minds  and 
and  bodies,  spirits  and  intellects,  of  men  may  bathe  in  Na 
ture's  fresh,  pure  atmosphere  ;  and  people  huddle  into  city 
passages,  to  live  in  miasmas,  and  partake  of  the  diseases 
engendered  there. 

Why  should  the  cities  absorb  the  intellect,  and  the  broad, 
beautiful  country  lie  barren?  The  circulation  of  thought 
thus  becomes  clogged  and  irregular,  —  too  rapid  and  heated 
in  the  central  marts,  too  stupid  and  slow  in  the  extremities. 
Good  men  have  less  power,  and  bad  men  multiply,  by  this 
means. 

Dante  says, — 

"  For  where  the  argument  of  intellect 
Is  added  unto  evil  will  and  power, 
No  rampart  can  the  people  make  against  it." 

There  is  more  danger  from  evil  passions,  where  intellect 
is  large,  to  lead  them  to  their  evil  purposes.  Let  us  remem 
ber  this,  and  use  our  knowledge  to  plant,  and  train,  and 
bring  to  fruitage,  the  trees  of  goodness.  Then  we  can 
change  the  poet's  theme,  and  say,  — 

"  For  where  the  argument  of  intellect 
Is  added  unto  goodness,  love,  and  power, 
No  rampart  can  ill  people  make  against  it." 


346  BELLA ; 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

|E  have  become  a  great  and  a  powerful  nation;  but 
there  is  a  power  that  can  destroy  us,  and  the  name 
of  that  power  is  sin.  Sin  in  the  hearts,  and  in  the 
systems,  of  individuals,  works  out  its  own  corrup 
tions.  All  the  nations  of  the  past  have  fallen  under 
its  influence.  It  is  a  disease  that  eats  out  the  souls  and 
bodies  of  humanity.  N"ot  only  must  we  seek  to  stop  it  at 
it's  fountain,  but  we  must  open  the  avenues  of  purification 
wider  all  the  way  along  where  the  rivers  of  society  run. 
As  a  nation,  we  revel  in  money ;  but  millions  of  it  are  used 
for  purposes  that  destroy,  instead  of  preserving,  morals  or 
physical  health.  Millions  of  dollars  are  expended  for  jails, 
penitentiaries,  prisons,  detectives,  lawyers,  sheriffs,  asylums, 
houses  of  correction,  and  various  devices  for  punishing ;  and 
into  these  the  wayward  are  thrust,  in  the  full  belief,  that, 
in  these  punishments,  lies  the  healing  of  sin.  Millions 
more  are  invested  in  churches,  at  which  the  masses  may 
look,  but  into  which  they  seldom  enter.  They  feel  that 
they  have  no  rights  there.  The  houses  are  the  houses  of 
a  few,  owned  by  private  right,  with  pews  set  apart  and 
owned  by  individuals  for  their  own  right.  If  strangers 
come  in,  they  must  wait  at  the  portals  for  invitation  to 
enter  the  house  of —  men,  not  God.  God's  portals  are  free 
as  the  sunshine  of  heaven. 


OR,   THE   CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  347 

We  have  a  locking-out,  as  well  as  a  locking-in.  Society- 
locks  the  masse*  out  of  churches;  and,  when  they  sin,  it 
locks  them  in-to  prisons. 

When  men  build  churches,  why  do  they  not  make  them 
a  free  gift  unto  the  Lord  ?  Why  do  they  hold  the  seats  as 
private  property  for  those  who  can  afford  to  hire  or  buy  ? 
Is  it  not  enough  that  they  have  houses  of  their  own,  in 
which  they  and  their  families  dwell  as  they  list  ?  In  the 
houses  of  God  we  should  all  meet  in  common.  Because  a 
man  has  paid  largely  toward  the  building,  or  toward  the 
pastor's  maintenance,  is  no  reason  why  he  should  have 
the  undisputed  right  to  a  certain  seat.  The  house  is  the 
Lord's,  built  especially  for  his  worship,  and  not  that  a  cer 
tain  few  may  have  private  passage  to  paradise  through  its 
portals !  If  the  men  whose  money  has  built  and  sustained 
the  houses  enter  and  find  no  place  for  themselves  because 
the  seats  are  already  full  of  worshippers  drawn  hither  on  a 
lovely  sabbath  day,  let  these  men  stay  without,  and  thank 
God,  saying,  "  For  this  did  we  build  the  temple,  that  the 
people  might  have  where  to  gather  in  worship." 

This  is  the  true  spirit  of  Christ.  If  he  should  now 
appear  in  the  flesh,  and  attend  a  sale  or  renting  of  pews, 
would  he  not  drive  out  the  money-changers,  and  say,  "Ye 
shall  not  make  my  house  a  house  of  merchandise  ?  " 

But  people  say,  "  There  are  free  churches,  and  free  pews 
set  apart  in  all  our  churches." 

Perhaps  there  are,  but  only  the  very  humble  will  attend 
worship  under  such  circumstances.  The  class  who  most 
need  religious  influences  will  not  take  its  outward  observ 
ance  in  this  way.  Therefore  they  spend  their  sabbaths 
in  ways  of  doubtful  benefit,  not  choosing  to  advertise  their 
poverty  by  attending  free  churches.  Rev.  Alexander 
McKenzie  sa3rs,  "  That  pew-rents  are  high  is  not  the  rea 
son  why  common  people  do  not  all  go  to  church.  Those 


348  BELLA  ; 

I 

who  are  too  poor  to  pay  for  a  seat  in  church  manage  to  pay 
for  other  things  of  less  value."  • 

This  may  be  true.  It  may  be  that  multitudes  of  people 
do  not  feel  like  depriving  themselves  of  all  other  pleasures 
for  the  sake  of  a  seat  in  church.  We  are  apt  to  use  our 
money  for  that  which  we  like  best ;  and  it  may  be  that 
myriads  of  the  common  people  do  not  so  love  the  pure  wor 
ship  of  God  as  to  be  frugal  in  the  comforts,  luxuries,  and 
necessaries  of  life  through  the  week,  for  the  sake  of  a  place 
in  the  house  of  God  on  the  sabbath.  What,  then,  is  the 
duty  of  Christians?  Is  it  not  to  make  religion  free?  If 
the  people  at  large  do  not  so  love  the  worship  of  God, 
Christ's  people  should  remove  every  stumbling-block  out  of 
the  way,  and  love  should  flow  out  to  those  who  need  pure 
love.  The  houses  of  our  Saviour's  remembrance  should  be 
made  free  as  the  streets  in  which  all  people  walk,  that 
whenever  the  sabbath  stroller  sees  a  church-spire,  he  may 
know  that  there  is  a  spot  where  people  are  free,  where  they 
have  a  right  to  turn  in  and  listen,  even  as  they  have  a 
right  to  walk  the  streets.  Rich  men  pay  by  far  the  heavier 
amounts  for  building  earthly  highways,  and  the  poor  walk 
freely  in  them.  Why  should  the  highways  to  heaven  be 
held  under  bondage  of  money?  The  rich  and  virtuous 
meet  all  kinds  of  people  in  the  streets,  and  are  not  harmed 
thereby.  Why  should  not  they  sit  together  in  the  streets 
that  lead  towards  paradise,  in  the  gates  of  the  houses  of 
God? 

In  all  our  churches,  of  all  denominations,  the  rich  and 
poor  should  meet  side  by  side  without  thought  of  who  owns 
or  who  does  not  own.  The  "  publicans  and  harlots  "  should 
have  equal  rights  with  the  righteous  and  pure  :  for  so,  may 
hap,  the  sinful  and  criminals  will  be  healed  of  their  soul 
diseases,  and  the  love  of  God  be  increased.  Christ  would 
surely  direct  this  method. 


OR,  THE  CRADLE  OP  LIBERTY.  349 

Our  Saviour  went  out  into  the  by-ways  and  hedges  to 
find  those  whom  the  devout  of  his  nation  had  left  out.  We 
should  not  only  go  out  to  them,  hut  try  to  draw  them  in. 
The  churches  are  under  the  control  of  those  who  profess  to 
feel  an  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  people.  Let  them 
prove  this  interest  by  opening  the  portals  of  the  houses  they 
control ;  for  in  this  way  they  may  help  open  the  portals  of 
heaven,  and  bring  down  upon  us  the  peace  thereof. 

We  talk  of  opening  public  libraries  on  the  sabbath,  that 
people  may  have  places  of  quiet  resort :  it  surely  would  be  a 
better  thing  to  open  the  doors  of  churches,  and  let  the 
people  walk  in  and  hear  the  Word  of  God  free,  here,  in  this 
country,  —  this  Cradle  of  Liberty !  "  Ho  every  one  that 
thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters :  buy  wine  and  milk 
without  money  and  without  price." 

We  are  told,  that,  in  heaven,  we  shall  all  be  as  one.  The 
criminals  in  their  dark  cells  have  this  promise.  But  here 
on  earth  people  will  not  accept  the  company  of  these  men. 
The  fine  lady  draws  away  her  garments,  the  "  priest  and 
Levite  walk  by  on  the  other  side."  Will  they  be  willing  to 
associate  with  the  criminals  on  that  other  shore  ?  There 
must  be  a  great  change  in  their  hearts  ere  they  accept  a 
heaven  in  which  felons  and  convicts  and  low  people  are 
found. 

Enemies  of  our  Saviour's  gospel  accuse  our  churches  of 
being  extravagant,  corrupt,  and  worldly.  Let  Christians 
fling  back  their  church  doors,  and  say  to  all  these,  "  Come  in. 
Come  and  see  what  we  are.  Join  your  chants  with  ours, 
if  we  are  good;  if  we  are  not,  help  to  make  us  better." 

Let  those  from  prisons  come ;  let  the  wretched  come ; 
let  the  strollers  come ;  let  the  rich  and  poor  come,  and  sit 
side  by  side.  For  these  churches  are  way-houses,  where  all 
may  be  guided  to  heaven.  If  they  are  too  costly  to  be 
made  free,  let  them  be  made  more  simple.  God  does  not 

30 


350  BELLA ; 

ask  for  rich  houses.  He  asks  for  the  heart.  He  aslcs  for 
love  and  kindness  among  the  people,  and  he  is  glorified 
thereby. 

Thus  is  ended,  "  Bella ;  or,  The  Cradle  of  Liberty  ;  "  but 
thus  is  not  ended  the  labors  of  the  people  that  this  book 
enjoins ;  for  the  people  are  to  lift  up  these  works,  and 
carry  them  on.  We  have  written  what  we  can  in  this 
brief  space  ;  but  that  which  should  be  written  and  done  is 
the  work  of  time,  and  let  people  be  careful,  that,  when  they 
take  up  these  labors,  they  do  as  the  God  of  nature  directs. 
For  the  year  of  jubilee  is  coming,  the  year  when  our  free 
dom  celebrates  its  first  centennial  year.  On  that  day, 
when  bells  peal,  and  cannons  echo,  and  children  shout,  let 
there  be  no  prisoners  wailing  in  the  midst.  Let  there  be 
no  houses  locked  to  shut  sufferers  within,  nor  houses  locked 
to  keep  worshippers  out,  nor  children  created  in  thought 
less  passion  and  with  broken  natures,  nor  people  growing 
up  in  ignorance,  uncared  for  and  untrained.  But  from  sea 
to  sea,  over  mountains  and  hills  and  plains,  through  cities 
and  through  woods,  where  Eastern  breezes  blow  through 
homes,  and  Western, winds  clarify  the  air,  let  voices  join  in 
one  song  of  acclamation.  Mothers  and  fathers,  wives  and 
husbands,  children  and  parents,  all  shall  join.  Then  Bella, 
with  her  curls  once  more  growing,  her  eyes  once  more 
shining,  and  her  heart  restored  to  happiness,  shall  sing 
soprano  over  Mortimer's  bass,  while  Harry,  keeping  sym 
phony  in  his  grand  old  heart,  shall  shine  in  their  midst 
as  the  good  and  the  true  ever  shine.  And  this  shall  be 
the  song  of  the  nation  on  that  day,  — 

"  Joy  to  the  world  !     The  Lord  is  come  ! 

Let  earth  receive  her  King ! 
Let  every  heart  prepare  him  room, 
And  heaven  and  nature  sing  ! 


OR,  THE  CKADLE  OF  LIBERTY.  351 

Joy  to  the  earth !     The  Saviour  reigns  ! 

Let  men  their  songs  employ  ! 
While  fields  and  floods,  rocks,  hills,  and  plains, 

Eepeat  the  sounding  joy. 

No  more  let  sin  and  sorrow  grow, 

Nor  thorns  infest  the  ground  : 
He  comes  to  make  his  blessings  flow 

As  far  as  sin  is  found. 

He  rules  the  world  with  truth  and  grace, 

And  makes  the  nations  prove 
The  glories  of  his  righteousness, 

And  wonders  of  his  love. 

Joy  to  the  world  !     The  Lord  is  come  ! 

Let  earth  receive  her  King ; 
Let  every  heart  prepare  him  room, 

And  heaven  and  nature  sing  !  " 


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